


Resolutions

by dracosoftie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracosoftie/pseuds/dracosoftie
Summary: Students from all four Houses land in detention after their New Year's Eve plans are discovered. Will their hasty new year's resolutions have unexpected consequences? H/D, with other pairings (M/F pairings are non-explicit). Warnings for slash, language and explicit sexual content
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 116





	1. Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> ***  
> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
> NOTE:   
> This was originally published in 2008 on Fanfiction.net. I am in the process of uploading all my old fics here.   
> XOXO,   
> Dracosoftie

“We could study,” Hermione offered lamely, earning jeers from the dozen or so classmates around her.

“No books,” Harry said, rubbing his face tiredly.

“We could sing,” Lavender said with a bright smile. “My cousin’s a Muggle, and she does this thing called Karaoke. We could –”

“No wireless,” Neville broke in.

“No talent, either,” Draco sneered.

She sighed, crossing her arms and slumping back onto the squishy couch Hermione had managed to Transfigure from the uncomfortable classroom furniture they’d been left with.

“It’s really unfair,” Pansy whined, stopping when the rest of the room glared at her. “Well, it is.”

Hermione shook her head ruefully, looking up from her current task of Transfiguring bits of paper into wooden blocks. Blaise and Neville were building a castle of some sort, heaps of the blocks already stacked precariously high.

“It’s no more than we deserve,” she said primly, her cheeks heating as she recalled McGonagall’s stern reprimand earlier in the evening. It really  _ had _ been poor judgment, especially from the Head Girl.

It was New Year’s Eve, and the unlikely group of seventh years from all four Houses had planned to sneak away to the Room of Requirement with several bottles of Ogden’s Finest and a keg of Muggle beer Seamus had somehow managed to smuggle in. Most of the school was away for the hols, but quite a few of the returning seventh years had stayed – some because they didn’t have anywhere else to go and others because they simply didn’t want to go home.

Harry and Hermione had both been invited to the Burrow, of course, but had chosen not to go. Things between Harry and Ron were a bit strained, since he’d failed to rekindle his relationship with Ginny after the war. She was happily dating Dean – who  _ had _ gone with them to the Burrow – but that didn’t matter to Ron, who thought Harry had dealt their family some sort of insult. Hermione had stayed because Gin had tipped her off to Ron’s plan to propose on New Year’s Eve, a direct conflict with Hermione’s plan to break up with him for good at the start of term. 

“We didn’t actually do anything wrong,” Pansy continued, her tone petulant. “Nothing that merited this kind of treatment, at least.”

It was true. The Headmistress had intercepted them before they reached their destination, divesting them of the contraband alcohol. Instead of letting them return to their dorms, however, she’d decided to punish them with an immediate detention. Which is how they found themselves counting down the minutes to the new year locked in an old classroom, with nothing but Hermione’s Transfigured blocks to entertain them.

“Did nothing wrong? Possession of alcohol on Hogwarts grounds is grounds for expulsion,” a silky voice drawled from the corner, dripping with menace. “Were I still Headmaster, you sniveling children would find yourselves immediately dismissed, which is what you deserve.”

“Severus, you and I both know you’d have done no such thing,” Dumbledore chimed in, his eyes twinkling, even in the portrait. “Minerva was quite fair in her punishment. These young ladies and gentlemen are hardly children, but they still have to abide by school rules. A night in detention may well remind them of that.”

Harry groaned, sinking further into his seat. He hadn’t bothered to transfigure the desk into something more comfortable, and his back ached from hours spent slouched on the hard, unforgiving wood. 

“Being stuck here isn’t the punishment,” he said, letting his head fall forward into the cradle of his arms. “It’s listening to you two bicker that’s the real detention.”

Snape and Dumbledore had indeed been arguing for the last two hours, ever since the Headmistress had marched, triumphant, into the room Levitating the portraits behind her. She’d stuck them to the walls, using some sort of Sticking Charm – they’d tried to counter it, but it hadn’t worked – and instructed everyone to enjoy their evening. The two former Headmasters were their chaperones for the detention, since McGonagall and all the other professors were having a party themselves.

“Probably drinking our Firewhisky,” Draco muttered, Conjuring a flock of miniature dragons to attack the butterflies Luna had just set loose in the room.

“Very likely, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with amusement.

“Idiots, the lot of them,” Severus huffed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Not one of them can brew a usable Hangover Potion. Probably using the rot Mathias sells at the apothecary in Hogsmeade. Never made it into my N.E.W.T. class, but thinks he’s qualified to brew and sell potions.”

“Now, Severus –”

“Don’t you ‘now Severus’ me, you barmy old coot!”

“Enough!”

Everyone – the girls gossiping on the sofa, the boys building the ramshackle castle, the portraits, even the dragons and butterflies – fell silent at Harry’s roar.

“Just, enough. We’re here for the foreseeable future. If the professors are right, it’s possible no one will come for us until the morning. We should Transfigure some beds and just go to sleep,” he said, sighing heavily. 

“Who appointed you lord and master, Potter?” Draco spat, his eyes flashing as he watched the Gryffindor heave himself up from his desk.

Harry met his gaze evenly, fighting a smirk when he saw the blond’s cheeks begin to pink under his scrutiny.

“No one did. It was just a suggestion, but I think it was a good one.”

Harry leveled his wand at the desk, morphing it into a small but comfortable-looking bed. He whipped his jumper off over his head, Transfiguring it into a blanket. Everyone watched as the dark-haired wizard toed his shoes off and slipped off his belt. They’d all dressed casually for the party – most in jumpers, denims and trainers. A majority of the girls, and a few of the boys, wondered what else the Boy Who Lived was going to shed before settling in to sleep.

“Oh, sod off,” he muttered, aware of their gazes as he climbed into the make-shift bed.

“Harry’s right,” Hermione said, pursing her lips when Theo cut her off.

“Of  _ course _ he’s right, he’s the Savior of the Wizarding World,” he mocked, wrinkling his nose to show his distaste for the words. 

“Stuff it, Nott!” Seamus growled, narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin.

“As I was  _ saying _ ,” Hermione continued, her expression severe, “Harry’s right. We should sort out our sleeping arrangements just in case the Headmistress doesn’t come back tonight.”

She looked at Harry, frowning. 

“But we can’t just go to sleep – it’s not even midnight! Our plans may have been derailed, but we may as well still do something fun, since we’re all here together.”

“Well said, well said,” Dumbledore praised, earning himself matching scowls from Snape and Harry. 

Everyone flinched when Harry raised his wand, moving the piece of holly in a complicated pattern. Even Dumbledore looked surprised when the air crackled as wards framed the portraits, effectively Silencing them. Harry watched as Snape’s mouth moved, sighing in relief when no sound escaped.

“Brilliant!” Blaise crowed, clapping. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Gryffindor, who was now sitting on the side of the bed, his feet still on the floor.

“Potter,” he said, his tone sharp. “If you can manage  _ that _ , then surely you could unlock that door.”

Harry nodded, tucking his wand back into his wrist holster. 

“What good would that do, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, her hands on her hips. She didn’t exactly approve of what Harry had just done, but she had to admit it was a welcome relief. “If we left, McGonagall would just put us back in detention again later.”

Draco shrugged, sighing as he Transfigured his own desk into a bed right next to Harry’s. Their eyes met briefly, but Draco merely smirked. The blond stripped down to his T-shirt, his cashmere jumper becoming and ultra-soft blanket that he draped over the small bed.

“What?” he asked when the rest of the room just gaped. “Granger was right. Potter had a good idea.”

Everyone focused on Transfiguring their own beds, though Hermione and Harry had to help Hannah, who hadn’t achieved a high enough score on her Transfiguration O.W.L. to advance in the class. Most went with a simple style like Harry’s, though Luna managed to make herself a hulking four-poster bed with shimmery hangings.

“It’s still twenty minutes to midnight,” Theo said, reclining on his green and silver blankets, his arms behind his head.

“We could play a game,” Lavender suggested, sitting cross-legged on her own pink monstrosity of a bed.

“What, Truth or Dare?” Pansy smirked, rolling her eyes. “Or no, I know, I Never? Really, Brown.”

“What?” Lavender whined, defensive. She thought they were perfectly acceptable games.

“A Slytherin would never play either of those games in a roomful of Gryffindors unless alcohol was involved,” Harry said, his voice wry. 

“And how would you know that?” Blaise asked, cocking his head toward the bare-chested dark-haired wizard, who was propped up on some pillows he’d Transfigured from his T-shirt.

Harry smirked, shaking his head.

“Slytherins need to be in control of the situation at all times. You’d never willingly enter into something that required a Truth spell – like Truth or Dare or I Never – without some sort of incentive or way to get the upper hand. Alcohol would be an easy way to lower the Gryffindors’ inhibitions, and get them to open up.”

“It would also lower the Slytherins’ inhibitions,” Hermione pointed out from her perch on her bed, easily the most elaborate and comfortable one in the room, its wrought iron headboard more impressive than even Luna’s efforts.

“Have you ever seen a drunk Slytherin?” Harry shot back, his eyebrows raised. He looked around the room, registering the blank looks on the Gryffindors’ faces. “No, you haven’t. Slytherins don’t get drunk in front of people who aren’t in their House.”

Draco gave him an appraising look, mirrored by the rest of the Slytherins in the room. Hermione just looked confused, her brow furrowed as she considered Harry’s words.

“But how would you know that, Harry?” she asked, glancing over at him. 

Harry just shrugged, running a hand through his hair. It badly needed a cut – it was becoming a hindrance. “Just common sense.”

“And what, Gryffindors don’t have common sense?” Seamus asked, his tone offended.

“We do, we’re just more trusting than the Slytherins,” Neville cut in, earning himself a grateful wink from Harry. 

The Slytherins continued their frank appraisal of Harry, adding Neville in for good measure, while the Gryffindors mulled this over.

“We could share our New Years’ resolutions,” Hermione said suddenly, her eyes brightening at the idea.

Seamus groaned. “That sounds an awful lot like your homework idea, Hermione.”

She laughed, sitting up from her sprawl across her mattress.

“No, really. It’s almost midnight. It’s the perfect time for it.”

She looked around, unsurprised that no one volunteered.

“Oh, come on. I, Hermione Granger, resolve to have a bit more fun in the New Year.”

Lavender’s bed was next to hers, and the girl chewed her lip, considering her options.

“I, Lavender Brown, resolve to date more in the New Year.”

Hermione shot her an incredulous look, unsure of how the notorious flirt could waste even  _ more _ time in the coming year on boys.

“I, Susan Bones, resolve to pass my N.E.W.T.s in the New Year.”

“I, Luna Lovegood, resolve to return to Sweden to continue my hunt for the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack in the New Year.”

Luna ignored the snickers, her face completely serious. Neville broke in next, hoping to divert attention away from their loyal, but harebrained, friend.

“I, Neville Longbottom, resolve to be more assertive in the New Year.”

“Good on you, Nev,” Harry said, grinning at him from across the room.

“I, Seamus Finnigan, resolve to be more romantic in the New Year.”

Susan blushed, drawing several considering looks from those who noticed.

“I, Hannah Abbott, resolve to practice Transfiguration in the new year, even though I’m not in the class.”

“I, Pansy Parkinson, resolve to be nicer to the other Houses in the New Year.”

Pansy looked around, glaring at the Slytherin boys who rolled their eyes at her. 

“What? It wouldn’t kill you to do the same, you know,” she huffed, nodding in thanks when Hermione and Susan agreed.

“I, Blaise Zabini, resolve to have fewer detentions in the New Year.”

“I, Draco Malfoy, resolve to kick Potter’s arse in Quidditch in the New Year.”

Everyone laughed, including Harry. He stared at Draco a moment longer than everyone else, looking away as he spoke.

“I, Harry Potter, resolve to keep fewer secrets in the New Year.”

Hermione shot Harry a funny look, clearly worried about his resolution. It was true that he’d kept a lot of secrets during the war, but what was he hiding now?

“I, Theodore Nott, resolve to spend more time studying so I am prepared for my N.E.W.T.s in the New Year.”

The room fell silent, everyone thinking about their own plans and goals for the new year. Most of them jumped when the Alarm spell Theo had set buzzed, indicating the arrival of midnight. Their short celebration was subdued, likely because they were all sober, and everyone quieted down fairly quickly, returning to their own beds.

“Alright, then?” Neville asked, looking around before casting  _ Nox _ on the few torches left burning in the room.

“Best to sleep,” Theo agreed, pulling back his House-colored bed coverings and kicking off his shoes. “The sooner we do, the sooner McGonagall comes back to let us out in the morning.”

***

Harry woke, sweaty and disoriented. He was far hotter than he should have been, curled under the thin blanket he had managed to Transfigure out of this year’s Weasley jumper. He stretched, his muscles tight from his uncomfortable position, and immediately froze when his hand encountered something solid and warm.

_ What the hell? _ he wondered, shifting so he could peer into the darkness. Blond hair glistened on his make-shift pillow, Draco’s warm body curled around his on the tiny bed. The blond radiated heat as well, the two of them overheated from sharing such a small space covered by the blankets they’d both Transfigured.

“Draco?” Harry whispered, his lips tickling against the shell of the Slytherin’s ear. The blond slept like the dead, and Harry was worried he might wake the others if he pitched his voice any louder. He gripped Draco’s shoulder, the feel of his overly warm skin sending a shiver of arousal through him. “Draco.”

“Mmm?” Draco answered, curling tighter into Harry’s prone body. His arm came around, wrapping around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Damn it, Draco!” Harry hissed, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Draco’s back.

Draco’s eyes shot open, blinking quickly to figure out what was going on. He smiled sleepily when he saw Harry’s face just centimeters from his, leaning up and placing a soft kiss against Harry’s lips.

“Hi.”

Harry’s lips curved into an involuntary smile, his fingers absently caressing the exposed skin of Draco’s back, soothing the marks he had made.

“What’re you doing in my bed?” Harry asked, his fingertips tracing a random pattern against the silky skin.

“Helping you with your resolution,” Draco answered, shifting so he had easy access to Harry’s mouth again, claiming it in a more heated kiss.

Harry groaned, forgetting his protest as Draco ground against his hip, his hard cock rubbing along his leg. All thoughts fled as Draco’s hand ghosted along Harry’s firm belly, following the trail of coarse dark hair down to the waistband of his denims.

It was insane, and Harry knew it. Their classmates were scattered through the room, which was small enough it offered no privacy at all. He blinked in the darkness, straining to listen. He heard nothing but a few rustles as some of the others turned restlessly in their beds, and the familiar sound of Seamus breathing steadily, deep asleep already.

“We can’t,” Harry said, pushing Draco’s questing fingers away from his now-unbuttoned denims.

Draco studied him, his expression neutral as he considered their options. Apparently deciding to brush Harry’s concerns aside, he leaned in again, forcing Harry back on the bed as he straddled him, their mouths joined in a fiery battle of tongues and teeth.

It was Draco’s turn to moan when Harry’s muscled thigh rose, purposefully rubbing against the blond’s crotch. His breathing quickened at the sensation, desire rippling through him. He opened his eyes, startled to find Harry’s were already open. The intimate link – grey eyes locked on green, even as their tongues were entwined and their bodies rutting roughly against each other – made Harry shudder and pause, his breath catching before he deepened the kiss.

Between the surprise of waking up to find Draco in his bed and the excitement of knowing any number of their friends could wake up and catch them at any moment, neither Draco nor Harry was able to last long. Draco’s pale, slender hand found its way past Harry’s opened waistband, his fingers snaking through the opening in his boxers and wrapping around Harry’s rock-hard cock.

“Shit,” Harry hissed, his body tensing as he came hard, not the slightest bit embarrassed that a few quick strokes had finished him off.

Draco’s frenzied thrusts against Harry’s thigh sped up, and Harry watched, enthralled, as the blond bit his lip, his eyes shut tightly, trying to stay silent as he rode the waves of his own orgasm. The dark-haired boy leaned up, capturing Draco’s mouth in a scorching kiss, swallowing his low groans and gasps.

They both froze when something moved across the room, Draco’s eyes shooting open as they waited to see what would happen next, cursing himself for not casting a Silencing spell when he’d climbed into Harry’s bed. Harry heard whispers, but they didn’t seem directed at them. A muffled moan came next, and the boys relaxed. Whoever was awake was busy enough not to notice them.

Draco rolled to the side, grimacing as the motion reminded him of the come cooling in his boxers. Harry stifled a giggle, grabbing his wand and casting a nonverbal Cleaning charm over both of them. His tanned fingers nimbly refastened the button on his denims, smoothing the fabric so what they’d been up to wasn’t immediately evident. 

Inspired, Draco grabbed his wand, smirking when Harry arched an eyebrow at the presumptuous movement. He cast a modified Silencing charm, enveloping Harry’s bed with wards that kept their voices muffled while allowing noise from outside in.

“Public sex was my resolution?” Harry whispered as soon as the spell shimmered into effect , continuing his earlier line of questioning.

“Your resolution not to keep secrets.”

Harry’s mouth fell open at Draco’s words, their meaning sinking into his tired brain. They’d been dating for months, a secret from even their closest friends. Harry hadn’t expected  _ this _ when he made his resolution, he’d actually been referring to finally coming out of the closet and letting his friends know he was gay. He’d never even imagined Draco would want to go public with their relationship.

“What? Seriously?”

Draco grinned, and Harry’s blood heated at the sight. The blond flipped, pinning Harry to the bed and nibbling on his neck. Harry groaned, his arms falling to his sides.

“Seriously. Isn’t this what you meant?” Draco asked between kisses, his tongue tracing Harry’s jaw.

“No,” Harry whispered, arching as Draco’s sharp teeth nipped at the thin skin over Harry’s collar bone.

Draco sat back, his face suddenly somber. “What did you mean, then?”

Harry pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to get closer to the blond. The room was dark, but he’d seen the hurt flash through Draco’s grey eyes at his answer.

“Just that I was going to come out to my friends this year. It’s not that – I mean, I don’t –” Harry groaned in frustration, the right words deserting him. He sat up fully, their thighs brushing on the small bed. “I don’t mind.”

Draco studied him for a moment, settling into his kneeling position. “You don’t mind.”

Harry could have yelled in frustration – he was mucking this up, and knowing Draco, he wouldn’t be given another chance to make it right. He dragged a hand through his hair, frantically trying to find the words to express what he meant.

“I don’t mind telling everyone about us,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “I just never thought you’d want to. “

Draco stared dumbly at him, his face curiously blank. 

“What exactly  _ is _ this?”

Harry watched him, brow furrowed. His grey eyes were dark, but no other sign of any emotion flitted across his calm face. The Gryffindor knew it was an act – he knew Draco well enough to recognize the Malfoy mask when he saw it.

“Us?”

Draco faltered a moment, nodding slowly.

“We’re – I don’t know. Boyfriends sounds so silly, yeah? And partners, that makes it sound like we’re Aurors or something.”

Draco’s shoulders had relaxed a fraction, his eyes warming slightly, his expression still guarded. “Lovers?”

Harry bit his lip, considering. They were, but that didn’t seem to have the right connotation.

“Yes, I suppose. I was thinking more along the lines of –” he blushed, looking down at the Transfigured bed coverings, “ – in love.”

Draco remained silent, and Harry looked up, gathering his courage. 

“I love you, Draco.”

The blond smiled almost shyly, his face open as he twined his fingers with Harry’s, squeezing his hand.

“I love you, too.”

Harry leaned in for a kiss, both of them losing their balance and collapsing in an ungainly heap on the bed when the lights suddenly flared to life.

“ _ What _ is going on in here?” McGonagall cried, surveying the make-shift dormitory with horror.

Harry struggled to sit up, his eyes panicked as he watched Draco smoothly roll off the bed and hop to his own. No one noticed them, since all eyes were on another bed across the room. A shirtless Pansy screamed, and Neville grabbed the blanket, doing his best to shield her from view while not exposing himself, either. 

“Fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor,” she said, closing her eyes as the students scrambled for cover. “Parkinson and Longbottom, two weeks of detention with Mr. Filch at the start of the new term.”

No one argued, flushed with embarrassment and horror at being caught out by the Headmistress.

“You will all return to your dormitories immediately,” she continued, her slowly opening her eyes to make sure her orders were being followed.

She paused, surveying the Transfigured beds. Her lips quirked as she noticed the strong Silencing wards around the portraits, and the horrified expression on Snape’s face. 

“Ten points to Ravenclaw for excellent Transfiguration, Miss Lovegood,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she continued her survey of the room. “Where are Miss Granger and Mr. Nott?”

A mortified squeak answered her, and Hermione’s disheveled hair became visible over the side of Theo’s bed. The tall Slytherin followed her, bracing himself against the mattress as he pulled her to her feet from their place on the floor. 

“Having more fun already, are you?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as he watched her struggle to stand, her lips swollen and her shirt unbuttoned.

Hermione glared at him, throwing another hard look at Lavender, who was whispering furiously with Hannah, gesturing wildly toward Hermione and Theo.

Luna giggled, breaking the tension and reminding the Headmistress of her purpose.

“Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin,” McGonagall said, her tone exasperated. She flicked a glance toward Hermione’s perfect bed with a tight smile. “Ten points to Gryffindor for a well-managed bed.”

She frowned at the lot of them again, shaking her head. 

“Off you get, now!” she said, her voice rising with irritation as the students remained in their places. At her stern admonishment, they quickly set about righting the room, ending the spells on their make-shift beds and gathering up whatever clothing they had shed.

Draco sent Harry a searching look before both boys cancelled the spells, quickly donning their T-shirts and jumpers. Harry pushed his feet into his shoes, hastening across the room. McGonagall still stood in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly.

“Potter.”

He paused, cringing. She’d seen Draco in his bed, even if no one else had. He was sure of it. 

“I assume you were the one to cast the wards on the paintings?” she asked, her voice curiously light. Harry flinched – he’d forgotten that. 

“Yes, Headmistress,” he said, bracing himself to lose even more points.

She studied him with an inscrutable look for a few more moments, nodding as she waved her wand to cancel the Sticking Spell. He noticed she didn’t disturb the wards, which still surrounded the now-Levitating portraits.

“Fifty points to Gryffindor for finding a way to shut them up,” she said, surprising Harry. “And twenty more if you teach me the spell.”

***

The group passed through the portrait hole silently, the Fat Lady not even asking for the password from the motley crew of dejected-looking students. Luna was with them, since she’d been staying in Hermione and Lavender’s room to avoid sleeping alone during the break.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered, stopping the dark-haired wizard before he could climb the stairs to his dormitory. 

He nodded at Seamus and Neville, who went on ahead, turning to face her. She waited until the girls had gone as well, her voice still pitched low so no one coming back downstairs would hear them.

“About Theo –”

“Does Ron know?” Harry asked, careful to keep his voice calm.

“Yes and no,” she admitted, biting her lip. “We’ve been on a bit of a break for a few weeks, and he knows I was planning to, er, see other boys.”

“But he didn’t know who?” Harry asked, his heart aching for both his friends.

“No,” she said, her teeth leaving indentations on her lips as she chewed them nervously. 

“Are you sure? I mean, I assume Gin told you –”

“About the proposal? Yeah. It’s what started all this,” she said, frowning. “He’s a great friend, and I love him. Though this rot over you and Ginny has strained that.”

She shook her head when Harry would have protested, knowing the dark-haired wizard wouldn’t want to drive a wedge between them

“It’s not that. It’s just –” she broke off, shrugging helplessly. “I love him, but not – not like that. Not enough for that.”

Harry nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. She was obviously distraught, and the end of her relationship with Ron was sure to cause even more distress, especially when the volatile red-head got wind of her fooling around with a Slytherin.

He could empathize; it was likely the same reaction he’d get when his relationship with Draco surfaced. Not that he was on good terms with Ron as it was, he thought with a frown.

“Whatever makes you happy, Hermione,” he said, giving her a squeeze before removing his arm.

She studied him, a strange gleam in her eyes as she swept her gaze over him.

“You, too, Harry,” she said softly, shooting him a lopsided grin. “Secrets, eh?”

He looked down, blushing deep red when he realized he was wearing Draco’s cashmere jumper, not his own. He knew it would cause even more problems for Draco, who must currently be sporting a Weasley jumper with the large letter H on it. 

“Not anymore,” he said, blowing out a breath as he raised his eyes to meet her gaze.

“Nope,” she said, still smiling. 


	2. Pansy is nice to other houses

_ “I, Pansy Parkinson, resolve to be nicer to the other Houses in the New Year.” _

***

“Seriously, Draco?” Pansy snorted, having just gotten her first good look at her friend since their return to the Slytherin dungeons.

“What?” he asked, smoothing a hand unconsciously over his hair, hoping he didn’t look to thoroughly debauched after his brief interlude with Harry. Harry, the boy he was  _ in love _ with. Draco grinned.

“Oh, this is bad,” Theo groaned, disturbed by the unfamiliar light in Draco’s eyes.

“So we lost some points,” Draco said with a shrug, assuming they were talking about the 75 points McGonagall docked. “We still have our Ravenclaw and Gryffindor matches. We can make it up then. It’s no big –”

Blaise snickered, grabbing Draco by the shoulders and forcefully turning him toward the cold stone wall. They didn’t bother with many tapestries or portraits inside the common room, since the damp walls always made them moldy. One of the down sides to living under the lake.

Pansy raised her wand, pointing it at the empty stone. “ _ Replico _ .”

The rough stone shimmered, its surface becoming smooth and silvery, like a mirror. Blaise shoved Draco forward again, drawing the blond’s eyes to his own reflection.

“Fuck me,” Draco moaned, a very uncharacteristic blush flooding his usually pale cheeks at the sight of the large H on the disgusting homemade jumper he was wearing. 

Pansy choked, her eyes going wide. Draco flushed even darker when he realized his unfortunate words and how they could be construed, his chest tightening uncomfortably at the horrified looks on his friends’ faces.

“Only sometimes,” he whispered, laughing weakly at his bad joke.

***

The first breakfast of the new year was subdued. Seamus and Neville were arguing over the large glass container in the corner and its lack of rubies, while Susan sent them longing glances and Hannah attempted to Transfigure her cup into – well, anything, really.

Hermione had entered Harry’s dorm earlier that morning, forcing the sulking Gryffindor out of his bed and into the shower. Harry hadn’t seen the point – Draco, for all his bravado last night – was sure to be livid about their mix-up. No matter what he’d said, Harry knew the blond wasn’t ready for their relationship to come out just yet.

He watched the doors like a hawk, willing them to open and admit the blond he so desperately needed to see. Neville fidgeted nervously next to him, obviously worried as well. 

***

_ They can’t hide forever, can they _ ? Neville wondered, picking at his shepherd’s pie as he watched the younger Slytherins file in for dinner, the four seventh-years conspicuously absent yet again. He was going absolutely spare, mad with worry that something horrible had happened to Pansy last night. The only reason he hadn’t gone to McGonagall yet was the Owl she’d sent him at lunch, assuring him she was fine and that everything would work out.

He watched Harry stare morosely at his own empty plate, wondering why this was affecting the dark-haired wizard so much. Did this have something to do with Harry’s odd resolution? Neville shuddered, not even wanting to imagine what kinds of secrets Harry Potter must have to keep.

***

It was the first breakfast of the new term, and Harry stared disinterestedly at the pumpkin juice and oatmeal in front of him. He wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been fighting a persistent bout of nausea, feeling sicker with every moment that passed. He looked over at the empty Slytherin table again, cringing as he imagined what Draco must be going through right now. Slytherin was clearly having a House meeting about something, and Harry had a sinking sensation he knew exactly what would merit one of the rare assemblies.

It had been three days – three days! – since he’d seen the blond last, though Draco had Owled him every day, promising he was alright and that he had a plan to work everything out. Harry wondered what kind of plan that would be. Did Draco have access to a Time-Turner? Had he Obliviated the three other seventh-years, and was hiding out because the spell went awry?

Harry and Neville both jumped when the doors flew open, their eyes drawn to the small band of Slytherins who entered. Blaise’s jaw was set in what Harry could only assume was anger, though Theo just looked resigned. Draco and Pansy were holding hands - wait, Draco and Pansy were holding hands? 

As they strode across the hall, the rest of Slytherin House poured in behind them, all looking as stoic and resigned as Theo, right down to the tiny but fierce-looking first-years. What the hell was going on?

“Listen up,” Draco called, casting a quick  _ Sonorus _ on himself to be heard over the din of the Great Hall. It was hardly necessary – it went quiet as a tomb the moment the Slytherin Prince opened his mouth, all eyes riveted on him and Pansy.

“Most of you think Pansy and I have been dating for years,” Draco said, and Pansy giggled, waggling her eyebrows at him in a surprisingly undignified way. 

“But you’re wrong,” she said clearly, her voice carrying without the benefit of a spell.

They both advanced on the Gryffindor table, and Harry tensed, forgetting to breathe as he watched them come nearer. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Draco’s hands wrap around Pansy’s waist, pulling the petite witch close to his body. He thought he might scream when Draco’s blond head dipped, capturing the girl’s mouth in a kiss.

No one said a word as they broke apart, though several laughed when Draco swiped a hand across his mouth in mock disgust.

“Anything?” he asked her, his grey eyes sparkling as she shook her head in an emphatic ‘no’. 

Harry’s lungs burned, and he remembered to breathe, drawing in a shaky breath as Draco dropped her hand. Harry felt like time slowed as Draco moved purposefully toward him, reaching out to fist his hands in Harry’s robes and pull him to his feet.

Harry didn’t even have time to register what was happening before Draco’s mouth crashed down on his, his arms coming up and wrapping around the Slytherin’s body as though they had a mind of their own. Relief coursed through Harry’s veins, bright and hot, soothing all the fears he’d had for the past few days. 

Draco tore his mouth away, and Harry bit back a whimper just in time. He’d completely forgotten where they were – and who was watching.

“Anything?” Draco asked, his voice husky.

Harry wasn’t sure he could keep his voice steady enough to answer, so he merely nodded, his green eyes blazing as he stared at the blond. He almost laughed as he heard a similar question from Pansy, turning his head just in time to catch Neville’s strangled affirmation.

The Great Hall was silent. Even the teachers were dumbstruck, their expressions ranging from merely surprised to outright horrified. Harry wondered how long the shocked silence would last, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of abuse that would surely result from this ridiculous display.

The first murmurs began to spread through the room, and Harry could hear bits and pieces of the shocked words.

“ – Potter’s gay?”

“Did Malfoy –“

“ – you  _ see _ that –”

“ – figures –”

“Never thought –”

“– a spell, surely –”

Seamus stood, clearing his throat roughly. The Great Hall went silent once again, all eyes now on the tall Gryffindor. He met Harry’s eye, and the dark-haired wizard was surprised by the fierce loyalty he found reflected back.

“What you all don’t know is that Parkinson’s new year’s resolution was to be nicer to other Houses,” he quipped, his thick Irish brogue echoing through the crowd room.

He stepped around Neville, grinning as he pecked Pansy on the cheek. She blushed, and he laughed. Draco tensed when he approached, his grey eyes studying Seamus with distrust when the other boy gripped his shoulder.

“Malfoy’s obviously going along with it, supporting his House-mate,” Seamus drawled, waggling his eye brows at the blond. Draco blanched, leaning away when Seamus’ intent became clear. 

The boy laughed, leaning in to place a chaste kiss against Draco’s cheek as well. He grinned when he heard Harry’s low growl behind him. 

Harry relaxed when he saw the rest of Gryffindor rise, lining up behind Neville to kiss Pansy. The Great Hall erupted into laughter and chatter, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs clearly deciding that if Gryffindor and Slytherin were alright with the shocking revelation, they were too. He looked up toward the staff table, wary of what he would find there. 

McGonagall rose, clinking her spoon against her goblet to garner everyone’s attention. 

“Parkinson! Malfoy!” 

Everyone froze, watching the Headmistress survey the scene with an inscrutable expression.

“Fifty points to Slytherin for promoting House Unity,” she finished, a rare smile splitting her face as she took her seat.


	3. Blaise stays out of detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied (off-page) M/F

_ “I, Blaise Zabini, resolve to have fewer detentions in the New Year.” _

***

It had been three weeks since Draco Malfoy outed Harry Potter in the Great Hall, but the gossip hadn’t died down in the slightest. Blaise and Theo had taken to trailing Draco everywhere he went, protecting him from hexes and insults thrown from angry students. The student body was fairly divided, but not between supporting the relationship and scorning it. No, the only dissent stemmed from the theories about how Draco Malfoy had managed to get Harry Potter to fall in love with him: It was pretty evenly divided among those advocating a potion – the Ravenclaws – and those who thought it was a spell – the Hufflepuffs.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins were far too loyal to participate in the betting pools that had sprung up almost overnight after the first breakfast of the new term, though Blaise wasn’t foolish enough to believe Draco actually had the full support of Slytherin House. They were just too crafty and cunning to openly side against him.

He wasn’t sure if the same could be said about Gryffindor. Those pathetically loyal lions had immediately stood behind their hero, and their support hadn’t wavered – in public at least. He didn’t know what happened behind the portrait door he was no so familiar with. Blaise refused to go into the Gryffindor common room when it was his turn to guard Draco, though he knew Theo had no such reluctance. News of his tryst with Granger had been kept surprisingly quiet, and Blaise knew they were still seeing each other in secret. He snorted. The stupid Weasel still had no idea, mooning around after Granger like a lovesick fool all the time, oblivious to the way she rebuked his advances.

It was about the only fun thing left to watch these days, since Gryffindor and Slytherin were getting along. Everyone else was preoccupied with watching Potter for signs of potion of spell trauma. Blaise slid down the wall, settling uncomfortably onto the floor while he waited for Draco. 

“Slumming, Zabini?” 

Blaise schooled his features into an expression of condescension before turning to address Ron Weasley, who was drunkenly leaning against the wall next to the Gryffindor portrait.

“Simply studying, Weasley,” Blaise answered coolly, nodding toward the stack of books near his foot. Both he and Theo used their Draco-watching time to study whenever possible, determined to pass their N.E.W.T.s with flying colors. They needed every advantage they could get in the job market after Hogwarts if they were to overcome the dark stain on all things Slytherin these days.

“Studying,” Ron mocked, clumsily making quotation marks in the air. 

Blaise was baffled at the Muggle gesture, unsure of what it meant. Weasley seemed even less coherent than normal, though he was sure that was at least partially due to the amount of Firewhisky he had likely imbibed. Blaise could smell him from several meters away.

“Yes,” Blaise said, lowering his head as he pretended to resume his reading. He could still see Ron in his peripheral vision, and his wand was hidden behind his hand. He’d be ready if the idiot tried anything. “You may not be familiar with the practice, but I assure you it’s allowed – encouraged, even.”

Ron growled, his lips drawing back over his teeth like a rabid animal as he charged forward, too angry or too drunk to even consider using his wand. Blaise braced himself, unwilling to strike out first. He was taking his resolution very seriously, though he was loathe to restrain himself from this easy shot at the Weasel. Still, he’d made it three full weeks without a slip, and he didn’t want the effort to be wasted. He was really enjoying his new detention-free lifestyle.

“Mr. Weasley!” a shocked voice shouted, and Blaise had to force himself not to grin. He looked up, his features carefully arranged to show shock and fear.

“Oh, thank Merlin, Professor Sprout!” he said, letting his voice shake slightly. Blaise saw Ron’s face turn an unattractive shade of puce, which forced him to fight harder not to smile. “I was just sitting here, but Weasley took offense –” he broke off, letting his gaze shift over to the furious redhead. “He just lunged, and I didn’t know what to do.”

The professor looked from Ron to Blaise, nodding her head grimly. “I was a few corridors over when the portraits alerted me to an altercation here,” she said, her brow furrowing as she took in Ron’s obviously inebriated state. “Come with me, Mr. Weasley. I think this is a matter for the Headmistress.”

Ron hung his head, the anger he’d felt toward Blaise vanishing at the threat of severe punishment. McGonagall would surely call his mother, which would be much worse than the House points he was guaranteed to lose.

“Ten points to Slytherin for keeping your cool instead of attacking Mr. Weasley,” Sprout said, nodding tightly to Blaise before marching away, Ron in tow.

_ Bloody hell _ , Blaise thought with a smirk,  _ this avoiding detention thing has its perks. _ He allowed himself a few moments of gloating before turning back to his Transfiguration textbook, intent on finishing the chapter before Draco was ready to head back to the dungeon.

***

Harry had his arms wrapped around Draco’s waist, their hands roaming over each other’s clothed bodies as they snogged heatedly. Blaise sighed, turning back to his homework. Today was their day to be in the Slytherin common room, which meant Blaise could relax instead of following Draco to Gryffindor.

He rubbed his tired eyes when he realized he’d just read the same paragraph three times. The sounds from the sofa next to him were becoming increasingly passionate, and Blaise grimaced at the resultant tightness of his pants. He wasn’t into blokes, but the sound of two people going at it – regardless of their sex – was undeniably hot.

He snarled softly, wrapping his robes securely around himself and gathering his books. He’d go to the library, since it was clear he wouldn’t get anything done there.

***

Blaise twirled his wand idly as he re-read the theorem, focusing on the quill in front of himself and muttering the incantation. The object shimmered, transforming into a small stone when he threw his concentration behind the spell. He smiled grimly. First step down, two more to go. Just as he began the incantation that would Transfigure the rock into a piece of coal, he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder.

_ What the fuck? _ Blaise thought angrily, letting his wand drop to his side as he whirled to glare at the idiot stupid enough to disrupt his casting. The string of invectives he’d been prepared to launch died on his lips as he blinked in surprise.

“Abbott?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. What did the Hufflepuff want? 

“S-sorry,” she stammered, blushing deeply at his gaze. “I’ve been watching you –” her eyes widened when she realized what she’d just implied. “Transfigure! I’ve been watching you Transfigure, and I thought maybe you could help me?”

Blaise’s frown deepened. She’d interrupted casting a very difficult spell to ask for his help? Couldn’t that have waited until after he’d finished what was obviously an involved multi-step incantation? His lip curled in distaste, ready to cut her down with a scathing remark.

Her pleading expression gave him pause, though. He could easily read her, and he studied her face with renewed interest. She was obviously scared –  _ as she should be, _ he thought haughtily – and impressed by his abilities –  _ again, no surprise there, _ he crowed mentally – but there was something else there he couldn’t pinpoint.

He examined his options. He could hex her for her interruption, which would most certainly result in a detention. Something to be avoided, given his resolution. He could just insult her, which would probably make her cry, which also might result in a detention. No on that front, then. A sly grin split his face as he realized his third option: help her with her Transfiguration, and then she’d owe him. His eyes traveled appreciatively over her, taking in her near shapeless form. He’d seen her in Muggle clothes at the New Year’s Eve party, however, and he knew exactly what kind of curvy, delicious body hid under those deplorable Hufflepuff-colored robes.

“Sure,” he said easily, his grin deepening as he saw the surprise on her face at his agreement. “Have a seat. I’m working on Mulciber’s Theory of Transmutation right now.”

He sighed at her blank look, pushing his textbook over so she could read the applicable paragraph. “You know, the steps necessary to Transfigure an object into something wholly different? I’m working to Transfigure the quill into a diamond.”

She shook her head dumbly, her eyes as wide as saucers. She’d not even known such a thing was  _ possible _ , let alone how to go about it. She hadn’t taken Transfiguration since she’d failed her O.W.L. years ago. She couldn’t Transfigure a quill into a teacup, let alone a  _ diamond.  _ It was why she’d resolved to practice, and why she was asking Blaise for help. 

Blaise suppressed a wave of annoyance, still resolute in his decision to avoid detentions by being a better – or at least sneakier – person. He needed to study this anyway, so what did it matter if he had an audience?

He waved his wand, ending the spell on the rock. The quill sat stationary on the desk, and he moved it slightly so both he and Hannah could easily see it.

“All things are carbon-based, yes?” he said, his voice slightly clipped. The girl nodded hesitantly, and Blaise focused his wand on the quill, the transformation into a rock easier this time. “Therefore it is theoretically possible to Transfigure any object into anything else, since the underlying structure is basically the same.”

“Mulciber’s Theorem says it is easiest to Transfigure an object into something radically different if the caster splits the spell into several steps.” He nodded toward the rock on the table, and Hannah followed his gaze. “So, from quill to rock. A rock is closer to the end result I want, which is a diamond.”

She nodded, and he concentrated again, casting the spell that Transfigured the rock into a smaller piece of coal.

“Closer still,” he said, fighting a wave of exhaustion from expending the energy to force the rock into coal. He closed his eyes, focusing on the precise wand movements he needed as he said the incantation again. He could feel, rather than see, the piece of coal begin to shake, and he poured more energy into the spell.

“Oh my God,” Hannah whispered reverently, her eyes locked on the tiny diamond that now sat on the table.

Blaise opened his eyes, his smile jubilant as he saw he’d succeeded. Though the theorem was on the N.E.W.T. syllabus, hardly anyone aside from Transfigurations Masters could accomplish the spell. Apparently all this time spent studying while waiting around for Draco had paid off. This, paired with the dissertation he’d write about the process and the changes he’d made to it, just might be enough to get him into the Transfiguration Mastery program he had his eye on.

“Here,” he said, pressing the small stone into her hand. Hannah’s blush returned, and arousal spiked through Blaise at the sight. The mystery emotion in her eyes was suddenly clear.

“I couldn’t,” she said shyly, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips. 

Blaise felt heat pool in his groin at the sight of Hannah’s pink tongue, his pupils dilating as he met her eyes.

“Please,” Blaise said, inclining his head politely. “A beautiful stone for a beautiful girl.”

Hannah giggled, ducking her head in embarrassment. Blaise’s thigh brushed against hers under the table, and her blush deepened even more. 

“Could we study together again?” she asked breathlessly, shocked by her own boldness. “I have a lot to learn.”

Blaise’s lips twitched at her innocuous words, which were made ever so much more suggestive accompanied by the tentative hand stroking his knee. He’d be more than happy to teach her anything she wanted. 

“Of course,” he purred, lifting her other hand to his lips to press a chaste kiss against it. 

_ First Weasley lands in detention, and now a naïve Hufflepuff literally lands in my lap, begging for corruption? _ Blaise smiled, his eyes flashing with amusement and desire.  _ This staying out of trouble thing is really starting to pay off. _


	4. Neville gets assertive

_ “I, Neville Longbottom, resolve to be more assertive in the New Year.” _

***

Neville ground his teeth as Ron started in – again – on a litany of complaints about Hermione. It had been one thing after another for the last few weeks. She’s fickle. She’s doing this to spite me. She’s just being stubborn. She’s a heartless bint. She’s just confused. She loves me, I know she does.

Unable to take any more, Neville threw his hands up. “Enough!”

Ron blinked, his mouth open as he stopped mid-sentence. He’d just been about to make a marvelous point about how Hermione could date as many blokes as she liked, since he knew they’d end up together in the end.

The entire common room went silent, watching the two boys. Everyone was tired of Ron. He’d been caught out drunk, which cost them House points. He’d been following Hermione around like a kicked puppy, which annoyed everyone and often invited more lost points, since the Head Girl took her frustrations out on everyone else. He’d been babbling nonstop for weeks about how much he loved Hermione, despite the fact that she’d told him she wanted to date other people and had done just that, parading many of her dates in front of him to get her point across.

“Mate?” Ron asked, cocking his head as he looked at his usually quiet friend. Neville’s cheeks were flushed, and his hands were clenched into fists.

“She doesn’t want you,” Neville yelled, making Ron flinch. “This is not part of some plan to play hard to get.”

Several of the lower year girls began to snicker, but Neville silenced them with a glare.

“She does not love you,” he enunciated, his voice lowering to a dangerous pitch only Ron and those close to them could hear. “She does not want to date you. She hardly wants to  _ see _ you these days because you’ve made such a nuisance of yourself!”

Ron’s face flushed, but Neville wasn’t finished. He grabbed Ron by the arm, forcing him up the stairs and into their dormitory. Harry and Draco were hunched over a magazine on Harry’s bed, both of them looking up in surprise when Neville and Ron stumbled through the door.

“It’s over,” Neville said, his voice pitched normally again. “I’m sorry, Ron. I’m sorry, but Hermione’s moved on.”

Ron shook his head, looking bewildered. Hermione still loved him, of course she did! This was just some sort of nonsense about her worrying they were too young to marry. He’d wait her out, and everything would be fine.

Neville growled, turning Ron so he was facing Harry. “Harry,” he barked, not noticing when the other wizard’s green eyes widened at his assertive tone. “Tell him.”

Harry exchanged a startled glance with Draco, who was looking at Neville with barely concealed interest. He’d never known what Pansy saw in the boy before, but he definitely appreciated it now. Neville in full fury was a gorgeous sight.

“Harry.”

Harry nodded, sliding off the bed so he could stand near Ron.

“He’s right,” he said, his voice sympathetic. He’d been spending most of his time locked away with Draco, so he hadn’t borne the brunt of Ron’s obsession. He was one of the few who didn’t head the other way when he saw Ron coming. “Hermione’s moved on. You should as well.”

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“What would  _ you  _ know about it?” he snarled, glaring at the dark-haired wizard in front of him. He flicked a glance over toward the bed, his glare intensifying when he looked at Draco. “You’re a ponce, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Ron!” Neville bellowed, his enraged tone making Ron wince.

Harry paled, swallowing hard at Ron’s words. Ron had seemed accepting of Harry’s sexuality until now, but perhaps he had just been too wrapped up in his problems with Hermione to really notice.

Both boys looked at Neville, who was absolutely seething. He had a hand clamped over Ron’s wrist, preventing the wizard from lunging at Harry. Draco materialized at Harry’s side, his arm draped protectively around the other boy’s shoulders.

“Listen, Weasel,” Draco sneered, his grey eyes flashing with fury. “I’ve not hexed your balls off out of respect for Harry,” he said, he paused, studying the boy holding Ron back. “And Neville. But say another word and I swear on Salazar’s grave I’ll make you regret it.”

Ron growled, breaking free of Neville’s grasp. He raised his wand menacingly, clearly intent on cursing either Harry or Draco.

“ _ Stupefy _ !”

Harry and Draco flinched, shocked Neville had hexed Ron. The redhead slumped to the ground, out cold.

“Jesus, Nev, remind me never to piss you off,” Harry breathed, his eyes wide as he looked at his friend.

“Well done,” Draco said, a vicious smirk crossing his face as crouched down beside Ron, who was still unconscious. “Very powerful.”

Neville blushed, lowering his wand. He hadn’t meant to hex Ron, but he’d been forced to intervene before the hot-headed idiot bollocksed things up with Harry even worse than he already had.

“He didn’t mean it, you know,” Neville said, stepping over Ron’s sprawled body to put an arm around Harry. 

Harry studied Ron, his brows drawn together in a frown. He’d hoped to keep Ron’s friendship, but he wasn’t sure they’d be able to get past this.

“Seriously, he didn’t,” Neville pressed, squeezing Harry’s shoulders and moving back to flop across his own bed. “We talked about it after break, and Ron’s fine with you being gay.”

Neville paused, pursing his lips as he looked at Draco. “He’s not fine with you dating Draco, but he’ll come around. I think.”

He settled back on his pillows, feeling exhausted.

“I shouldn’t have pushed him,” he muttered, stretching out on top of the duvet. “I should have just let it go.”

Draco snorted, reclaiming his spot on Harry’s bed and motioning for the other boy to join him.

“He was driving everyone spare. The Slytherins were even considering some sort of Silencing hex or potion, and we only see him a few hours a day!”

Neville laughed, rubbing his hands across his face. 

“I really thought Hermione was going to kill him when he burst in on her and Theo,” he said, shaking his head. As Head Girl, Hermione had her own room, which wasn’t warded against boys like the girls’ dormitories. A fact she’d been taking advantage of lately.

“They were only studying,” Harry said, relaxing into Draco’s outstretched arms and letting his head fall backward to rest on the blond’s shoulder.

“True, but Ron still raised holy hell about it, didn’t he?” Neville said, rolling his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking over at Harry and Draco. “I did mean what I said,” he added softly. “Ron doesn’t have a problem with you being gay, Harry. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Harry shrugged, nestling back against Draco. He ran his fingers up and down the Slytherin’s arm, his fingers skating across Draco’s sleeve.

“As loathe as I am to say anything nice about the Weasel, I think Longbottom’s right,” Draco muttered, his voice muffled since he had buried his face in Harry’s neck.

“Longbottom again, is it?” Harry murmured, turning his head so his lips tickled Draco’s ear.

“Oh, fine. Neville, then.”

Neville laughed, sitting up fully. “I don’t care what you call me, Malfoy.”

“Draco,” Harry insisted, winking at Neville. This newfound camaraderie between the two was more than Harry had ever hoped for.

“Draco,” Neville echoed, smirking. He stood, straightening his rumpled robes. They still had twenty minutes before dinner, and he had a great idea about how to use them. “So, want to teach Ron a lesson?”

***

Ron groaned, clutching at his aching head. He remembered Neville yelling at him in the common room, and then confronting Harry and Draco in the dorm –  _ oh, bloody hell, _ he thought, frowning,  _ did I hex Malfoy? Or Harry?  _

He sat up gingerly, waiting until the world stopped spinning before opening his eyes. A very stern-looking Neville sat at his bedside.

“Nev,” Ron croaked, squinting since the room was so bright.

“Ron,” Neville said evenly, sliding off his bed. “Dinner started five minutes ago. You’d best get down there.”

Ron tried to nod, but the pounding in his head prevented it. He could have kissed Neville when the other boy produced a Pain Potion from a fold in his robes, handing the uncorked vial to him.

“Thanks,” Ron muttered after downing the potion. The pain receded to a manageable level and he was able to sit up. “What happened?”

Neville frowned, crossing his arms. “You don’t remember?”

Ron shook his head, pleased the motion didn’t send spikes of pain through his skull.

“Well, you insulted Harry rather badly, and then you tried to hex Draco,” he said, his tone full of reproach. “I took you down with a Stunner before you could cast.”

He shook his head, glaring angrily at his friend.

“Are you  _ trying _ to get expelled? First drinking and wandering around the halls, picking fights with random students, and now this?”

Ron blanched, taking a deep breath. “No.”

“You owe both Harry and Draco a rather large apology,” Neville continued, his voice still stern. “And Hermione. And most of Gryffindor House, actually.”

Ron squeezed his eyes shut, falling back onto the bed. He remembered everything now. Harry was never going to forgive him.

“Harry’s never going to forgive me,” he groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Oh, get up,” Neville sighed, slapping at Ron’s feet. “He’s already forgiven you, you dolt. It wouldn’t hurt to apologize, but you don’t need to worry he won’t accept.”

Ron brightened visibly, hoisting himself up off the bed.

“Dinner, then?”

***

Ron looked around the Great Hall, wondering why everyone was staring at him and whispering. There had been quite a few snickers when he’d taken his place at the Gryffindor table a few minutes earlier, but he’d managed to convince himself they weren’t talking about him. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure.

“Harry,” he whispered, catching the other boy’s attention. He noticed Harry’s lips clamp together, and he wondered if Neville had been too hasty in his declaration that Harry had forgiven him. “Harry!”

The dark-haired wizard turned toward Ron, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Ron whispered, contrite. “I was just mad about what you and Neville were saying about me and Hermione, and I said the first thing that came to mind. I just wanted you to be hurting, too.”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

“I hope you can forgive me. I – I messed up. Big time. I know that,” Ron said, his words sincere. “I’ll even apologize to Malfoy, if that’s what it takes.”

Harry nodded again, his teeth clenched to hold back his laughter.

“So, do you forgive me?”

Harry nodded once more, and Ron smiled in relief. Harry was acting odd, but at least he forgave him.

Ron turned back to his meal, tucking in to a plate of stew. He’d only taken a few bites before a third year tapped him on the shoulder.

“Did you know?” the boy said, touching his hand to his own forehead.

Ron frowned. Know what?

The boy looked around nervously. “I just thought someone should, you know, tell you. In case you didn’t know.”

The entire table burst out laughing, and Ron looked around, confused. He held his hand out, taking the small mirror Lavender had just taken out of her purse.

Words were scrawled across his cheeks and forehead, the bright green ink standing out against his pale skin. They were backward in the mirror, and he was having trouble making them out. Suddenly, Harry’s silence made a lot more sense.  _ The git probably couldn’t open his mouth without laughing _ , Ron thought darkly, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on reading the words. The hot blush that crept across his face only made them harder to make out.

“Allow me,” Draco drawled from behind him, sliding into the spot Harry made for him as he slid further down the bench. “It says: Hermione Granger is free to date whomever she pleases. She is a lovely girl who is in no way still attached to me. I will respect her decision to date other people.”

Ron let his head sink to the table, the cool wood soothing against the blazing blush that heated his cheeks. Hadn’t he just apologized to Harry? And hadn’t that apology included a promise to be nicer to Malfoy? How could he, after what the Slytherin git had done to him?

“Just so you know,” Harry said conversationally, drawing back from a particularly lewd kiss with Draco. “Draco didn’t do it. Neville did. And it’s spelled to stay there until you actually believe it.”

Ron groaned. What was happening? The world was going crazy. Harry was gay, and dating  _ Malfoy _ , of all people. Hermione had dumped him and was steadily dating her way through all the sixth and seventh year boys. And Neville. Dear, sweet, unassuming Neville. His previously kind and gentle friend had apparently acquired an assertive Slytherin side in addition to a Slytherin girlfriend, and he was embracing it wholeheartedly.

“I miss the old Neville,” he muttered against the table, sinking further into his slouch.


	5. Draco plays for the win

_ “I, Draco Malfoy, resolve to kick Potter’s arse in Quidditch in the New Year.” _

***

The Slytherin team slinked toward the locker rooms, aching, cold and exhausted. The pitch was nearly invisible in the blizzard, but their captain hadn’t cared. He simply cast Tracking Charms on all of them, ensuring they wouldn’t be able to slack off during practice or hide out under the stands where it was still freezing but at least dry.

“Lazy!” Draco barked, slamming his broom down on the bench in the locker room. Nine dejected students faced him, their Quidditch leathers stiff from the cold and covered in snow and ice.

“Incompetent!” he yelled, pushing the bench away with his foot, causing the two Chasers who’d collapsed onto it to fall to the floor.

“There is  _ no excuse _ for this kind of performance!” he spat, his grey eyes flashing with anger. He’d had them flying around the pitch for an hour, testing out new strategies and techniques he’d developed with the hope of finally – finally – beating Gryffindor in next week’s game.

“But Draco,” one of the Beaters whined, a third year who had always had more brawn than brain, “it was snowing.”

The locker room had been silent before, but it absolutely buzzed with an absence of sound in response to the boy’s bleating complaint. Everyone else held their breath, worried about what their illustrious captain might do to the boy. The Keeper and one of the Chasers surreptitiously held out two fingers each. The team had been betting on outcomes ever since Draco had returned from Christmas break on a mission to beat Harry Potter and his motley team of do-gooders once and for all. Current betting lines had Draco sending at least one – if not more – of the lower years to the infirmary before the game was even played. Both boys obviously felt this was their time, signaling to double their already hefty bets. 

Tracey Davis, a Chaser and the only witch on the team, smirked. Shaking her head, she flashed three fingers at the other boys, quirking an eyebrow when their eyes widened. She knew Draco well. He wouldn’t risk landing himself in detention, or worse, suspended from the game, by indiscriminately hexing anyone.

“Out,” Draco growled, pointing toward the door. 

The third year who had spoken up paled, swallowing hard.

“Out, now!” Draco yelled, turning and stalking toward the showers. “You’re off the team. Harper!”

The thin boy flinched, meeting Draco’s eye with great trepidation.

“You’re the newest Slytherin Beater. Welcome to the starting lineup.” Draco looked around, his eyes narrowing when he saw the gaping third year who was still frozen to his earlier spot. “Someone escort him out, please. Practices are closed. Team members only.”

The team spurted into action, two of the older boys pulling the third year toward the door and pushing him roughly through it. By the time it slammed behind him, Draco was already in the shower. Grumbled complaints and threats, all too low to be heard by their captain over the roar of the water, filled the small room as the remaining Slytherin team members stripped. Tracey stationed herself near the showers, casting light Healing spells on anyone in need of them, though the complaints stopped almost as quickly as they had begun. No one liked Draco’s methods or the grueling practices he forced them to endure, but they couldn’t argue with the results. They were going to  _ smoke _ Gryffindor.

***

“Mate?” Ron asked, pulling a chair over to Harry’s slumped form. The Gryffindor Golden Boy was napping on the sofa in the common room, sprawled out on top of his Potions text and a now-crumpled essay about the magical properties of Aloe.

“Hmm?” Harry murmured, sitting up and dislodging his glasses as he rubbed at his eyes. 

“About practice,” Ron whispered, leaning closer. “Do you think you could cover for me? Lead the team this time?”

Harry frowned, studying Ron’s pinking cheeks. What was this about? Why would Ron be missing a practice? He thrived in the coveted position of captain, and he’d never been known to skive off practice. 

“Ron?”

Ron blushed darker, biting his lip. “Well, you see, I have plans.”

“Plans?” Harry asked, incredulous. As the last remnants of his afternoon nap wore off, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They really couldn’t afford to have their captain miss a practice, what with the game against Slytherin approaching that weekend.

Ron coughed, clearly uncomfortable. “A date.”

Harry grinned, his green eyes lighting with amusement and affection. They  _ did _ need Ron at the practice, but if he’d found a date, well, that needed to be encouraged, too. 

“Sure, then,” he said easily, flattening out the rumpled essay with a spell. 

“That – that’s it?” Ron spluttered, looking confused.

Harry frowned, studying Ron again. “Did you not want it to be?” 

“No, it’s brilliant you’re willing, really,” Ron said, his freckles all but lost in the raging blush he now sported. “I just thought you’d be harder to convince. That you’d have, you know, questions.”

Harry nodded knowingly, giving Ron a conspiratorial wink. “Like who is she, how serious are you two, things like that?”

Ron nodded, his face miserable.

“Nope.”

“No?”

Harry beamed, shaking his head as he leafed through his textbook. “I just want you to be happy, mate, no matter who it’s with. I’m not thrilled you’re missing practice, mind you, but I trust you feel it’s necessary. So yes, I’ll take point at practice tomorrow afternoon.”

Ron gaped, his blue eyes full of gratitude. He stood, clapping Harry roughly on the shoulder as he did.

“I have to say,” he said, the words low, “Malfoy’s really been good for you.”

***

Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice when Ron stormed into the Great Hall two days later, his face an unhealthy purple and his fingers clenched around a piece of parchment.

“That dirty, rotten good-for-nothing –”

“Ron?” Ginny asked, scooting down the bench so her brother could slide in next to her. They’d all been a bit surprised when he hadn’t materialized at the beginning of breakfast, knowing how seriously he took the first meal of the day. 

“Self-absorbed  _ prick _ –“

“Who?” Harry asked, already tensing in anticipation of the answer. Only one other student had been conspicuously absent at breakfast.

“ _ Malfoy _ ,” Ron spat, waving the parchment in Harry’s face. “That, that, that –”

“Wonderfully supportive boyfriend of Harry’s?” Hermione put in, hoping to derail Ron’s anger in time to stop another fight between the two friends.

“Snarky but tolerable guy who’s now friends with almost everyone here but you?” Neville said, his eyes flicking to Harry to gauge the other wizard’s reaction to Ron’s rant.

“Gorgeous piece of Slytherin arse?” Ginny suggested, grinning wickedly when everyone but Hermione and Harry looked at her in shock. She shrugged. “What? He is.”

Harry slid the parchment back across the table, letting Ginny read it. Her lips tightened into a flat line, but she kept her mouth shut.

“Slytherin has the pitch booked solid until the match,” Harry said with a shrug, returning to his eggs.

“That’s not –”

“How could they –”

“I  _ knew _ we couldn’t trust –”

“Stop,” Neville said, his pitched low but still loud enough to carry down the Gryffindor table. No one dared to argue, cutting their protests off immediately. What Nev did to Ron was already Hogwarts legend. The red-haired wizard had worn the phrase on his forehead for two weeks before it had finally –mercifully – disappeared, along with his unrequited affection for Hermione. “Just listen for a moment.”

Neville waited until he was sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing.

“Draco made a New Year’s resolution to beat Harry at Quidditch,” he said simply, holding Ron’s gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes back to his breakfast.

A few beats of silence passed before the chatter resumed, the students falling back into whatever conversations they’d been having before Ron’s dramatic entrance. Even the irate captain merely shook his head, resigned at the news, pulling a plate toward himself and tucking into the food spread in front of them.

Harry turned toward Hermione, stunned. She didn’t seem to understand any more than he did, though, so they simply shrugged, choosing not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

***

Game day arrived, along with a burst of unseasonably warm weather and crystal clear skies. There was no hint of the frigid winds and heavy snows that had plagued Scotland for the last few weeks, though the snow drifts on the grounds had yet to melt. It was far from ideal – Harry was bundled up in his heaviest Quidditch leathers and blanketed with Warming Charms – but better than he’d had any right to hope for.

Ron was giving the team a last-minute pep talk, but they all seemed more subdued than usual. Ron kept glancing over nervously at the Slytherin bench, focused on Draco, who was giving his team a similar speech – but with much different results. The snakes were quite obviously fired up, and Harry was starting to get worried. Was the Gryffindor team worried he’d let Draco win because they were dating? Harry didn’t know how to broach the subject, but he felt he needed to reassure them.

“Ron?” he interrupted, stopping a half-hearted attempt to raise the team’s spirits and energy. “Could I?”

Ron sent another unreadable look toward Draco before shrugging and stepping back so Harry could climb up on the bench.

“What is  _ wrong _ with you people?” Harry barked, gesturing wildly with his hands. “This is our last game of the season! I want you to get out there, get up on your brooms and show those Slytherins what it means to be a proud Gryffindor!”

Heads bobbed, but his team members’ excitement still seemed oddly dampened.

“Now I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you know we’re going to  _ win,”  _ he yelled, pumping his fist in the air.

“Er, Harry –”

He shushed Ron with a wave of his hand, repeating his earlier words. This time, though, several of his team mates got into the spirit and started chanting along with him. It still wasn’t the rush of adrenaline and confidence Harry was used to before a match, but he deemed it enough to release the team and shoo everyone into the air.

“Harry, don’t you know –”

Harry glared at his best friend, mounting his broom and kicking off the pitch violently. “We’re going to win, Ron! That’s all I need to know!”

***

Harry’s entire body ached. Though he knew Quidditch matches could last hours –  _ days,  _ even – he’d never participated in one that went over three hours. He risked a glance over at the scoreboard, figuring if he hadn’t seen the Snitch in that long it was probably safe to take his eyes off the game for a few seconds.

He groaned, veering his broom off to the side as a Bludger zoomed by. His fingers were cramping from their grip on the broom handle, his arse hurt, his back was spasming and his eyes were gritty and tired. He glared at Draco as the blond streaked past him, looking completely at ease and as relaxed and comfortable as though he’d spent the last three hours poolside instead of playing Quidditch.

Harry scanned the skies again, searching for the telltale glint the sun reflecting off gold that would reveal where the tiny Snitch was. No luck. The day had turned cold, and Harry shivered and flexed his frozen fingers as he turned, heading back toward the other end of the pitch. The sky was still a vibrant blue, the perfect backdrop to find the Snitch, but neither he nor Draco had been able to see it yet.

Draco stretched , keeping one hand carefully wrapped around his broom handle as he did. The extra hours of practice – both with the team and alone – were definitely paying off. Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors looked miserable, whereas the Slytherins looked exhilarated and fresh.  _ No one’s complaining about all those extra laps and exercises now, _ he thought with a smirk.

He’d seen the Snitch three times already, but it had been close to Harry each time. The other boy had miraculously been turned the other way each time, oblivious to the coveted golden ball hovering nearby. Draco had bided his time, inching closer while pretending to ignore the Snitch lest he tip Harry off. It was frustrating, but he was counting on his patience paying off in the end. After all, this had been his resolution. Luck was on his side.

He heard Harry and Ron shouting at each other, the Gryffindor Keeper gesticulating wildly as the dark-haired boy hovering next to him slammed an angry fist down on his own thigh. Draco laughed, shaking his head. He could guess what Weasley was telling Harry, just like he could guess that Harry wasn’t having any of it. 

Tracey slammed to a stop next to him, a hard glint in her eye as she watched the argument. They were too far away to hear the words, but it was obvious Boy Wonder and his Weasel were having a spat.

“We’re ahead 70, darling,” she drawled, nudging Draco’s broom with her boot. “It’s been four hours. Get a move on, will you? Some of us have dates tonight.”

Draco rolled his eyes as he watched the witch speed away. Finding the Snitch was not something that could be rushed. After all these years, he’d finally realized why Harry always beat him. It shamed him to recount the number of times he’d given away the Snitch’s location, his movements obvious instead of sly and cunning as they should have been.  _ Not this time, _ he told himself grimly, his grey eyes flicking from one end of the pitch to the other in search of the tiny winged ball. He caught sight of it hovering near the Slytherin goal posts, several meters above the game. Draco swallowed his excitement, forcing his face to remain impassive. He continued to peruse the pitch lazily, his peripheral vision trained on the Snitch while he looked for Harry.

_ Perfect _ , he thought triumphantly, spotting Harry near mid-field. Draco eased the nose of his broom up, cutting through a path through a clump of players battling for the Quaffle. He didn’t hurry, but he could tell his fellow Slytherins realized he was on the hunt for the elusive golden ball. They gave him a wide berth, letting him move through their ranks without a word.

Draco glanced over at Harry, who was now circling the pitch down close to the grass. A smile threatened to break across his face, but he tightened his features and forced it to disappear. He would not celebrate until he felt the Snitch flutter in his palm – he’d had victory literally snatched from his outstretched hand by Harry – though in this moment, it was easier to think of him as Potter – too many times before. 

“It looks like Slytherin Captain Draco Malfoy is in hot pursuit of the Snitch,” Terry Boot exclaimed, startling players and crowd members alike with his magically enhanced voice. He’d given up on commentating about three hours in, when he’d started losing his voice. Now, he only announced goals and, apparently, any promising-looking move from a Seeker.

Draco cursed under his breath, tucking his body in tighter, his torso lowered over the speeding broom until he was nearly prone. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Harry would be close on his heels after Boot’s unfortunate moment of insight.

Determined to get to the Snitch first, Draco forced his broom to accelerate, flying at a reckless and unsafe speed as he hurtled toward the Slytherin goal. He’d never be able to stop, but he didn’t care; all he wanted to do was catch the Snitch. He knew the professors would cast Cushioning and Slowing Spells if he fell, and it was unlikely he’d be seriously injured even if he fell all the way to the pitch. Despite what many non-players thought, Quidditch was a fairly safe game. The pitch was always blanketed with a slew of protective spells, and one of the first things all players learned were a series of Shielding and Slowing Spells in case they fell from their brooms. As long as a player wasn’t incapacitated mid-air, he or she usually had enough time to land gracefully – or, at the very least, in a manner that prevented serious injury.

Harry felt the cold air burn against his skin as he coaxed a burst of speed from his broom, gaining on Draco with every passing second. They both had the same broom – the latest version of the Firebolt, kitted out with professional racing gear – but Harry was slightly lighter and much less fearful of his own mortality. He edged forward on his broom, sitting as far up on it as he could without throwing off the broom’s balance. 

The Snitch was rocketing straight up in the air, and Draco followed it, chasing the small golden ball until the pitch and the players on it were little more than specks. His lungs ached, his breath coming in gasps as they struggled to draw enough oxygen out of the cold, thin air. He could hear Harry’s broom whistling as he sped closer.

_ What the hell is the Snitch doing up here? _ Harry thought, his arms trembling violently from exertion and cold. It was hard to breath up this high, and he wondered how long he and Draco could remain at this altitude and stay conscious. He could already feel his body protesting the reduced oxygen level, and his vision was graying slighting around the edges.

Draco wasn’t worried about the cold, and he wasn’t worried about the alarming spots that were clouding his vision, aside from the fact that they were making it difficult to follow the blasted Snitch. He was confident he could catch it before he blacked out, and after that, not much mattered. He would have completed his resolution – beating Harry Potter in Quidditch – and secured the House Cup for Slytherin. Anything that happened after he wrapped his frozen hand around the Snitch was of little consequence.

Harry wanted to pull back, but he doggedly followed Draco even higher. Soon, one of them would catch the damn thing or they’d both pass out – either way, he wasn’t leaving Draco. If beating him at Quidditch was this important to the blond, Harry would at least make him work for it.

***

Draco was aware of a dull throbbing in his skull. He tried to lift an arm to press it to his head but found movement impossible – no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make his sluggish limbs obey. 

Grey eyes shot open, the dull pain becoming intense as he squinted in the mid-morning light. He blinked owlishly. That couldn’t be right. The sun had already started to set when he’d spotted the Snitch. How could it be light again? Looking around he could tell he was in the Hogwarts infirmary. He’d been there often enough due to some Quidditch injury or another to recognize the unadorned stone walls and the pale blue bedding.

He heard a groan from the bed next to his and managed to turn his head enough to see its occupant. An equally hazy and confused Harry was staring back at him, though the blond had the advantage, since the dark-haired wizard was without his glasses.

“Draco?” Harry murmured, unable to make out the Slytherin’s features but sure no one else in the school had hair so shockingly blond.

“What happened?” Draco asked, startled when the question came out as a rough croak.

“Dunno,” Harry answered, struggling hard to pull himself into a sitting position. He was panting with exhaustion by the time he’d managed it. “We’re in the hospital wing.”

Draco rolled his eyes, sorry to note that even that small movement amped up his already-raging headache. He frowned when he realized his hard-won look of condescension wouldn’t be noticed by the nearly blind Gryffindor.

“We were playing Quidditch –”

“I was  _ beating _ you at Quidditch,” Draco interrupted snidely, his memory of the game suddenly flooding back. He’d been so close to the Snitch, but had he caught it? He had no idea what accident had befallen them, no clue as to why they were in the infirmary.

“Whatever,” Harry croaked, his tongue darting out to lick at his dry lips. He was thirsty and his entire body hurt. Had they fallen?

Draco was about to retort when the curtain slid open, revealing a cheery Madam Pomfrey stepping into their semi-private enclosure.

“Good morning, boys,” she said, well aware her loud voice and shrill tone would make them wince. After the stunt they pulled the day before they deserved it, at least by her reasoning. “Awake, I see.”

“What happened –“

“Who won –“

She held a hand out, stopping their questions. Harry scowled in Draco’s direction, angry the boy was more concerned with the outcome of the match than their health.

“Reckless, both of you,” she chided, bustling over to the gap between their beds, potions in hand. 

Harry recognized the color and smell of a potion that relaxed stiff muscles and relieved the achiness of healing tissue and bones.  _ A bad fall, then _ , he thought to himself, wisely swallowing what was thrust at him without complaint. He was surprised to see Draco do the same.

“That silly, violent game!” she tutted, shaking her head and murmuring spells to take their vitals. “It should be banned. Why they let students play something so dangerous I’ll never understand.”

“But the game?” Draco asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position with a wince. “Did they postpone it? What happened? Did Slytherin win?”

Madam Pomfrey glared at the blond, stalking away before he could question her further. Draco scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry thought the other boy might have dozed off after a few minutes of silence, so he was startled when Draco spoke.

“What do you remember of the game?” 

Harry’s lips curved as he closed his eyes, letting an image of Draco perched on his broom, shooting through the sky, fill his mind.

“Most everything, I think,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes again. He looked over at Draco, who was too blurry for Harry to notice the glint in the smoky grey eyes. “Up until the end, that is.”

Draco grinned. “So you remember Slytherin was up in points?” Harry nodded, licking his lips. “And you remember I was right on the Snitch’s tail?”

“I remember you were being a prat, flying so high we probably passed out,” Harry said wryly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He paused briefly, letting the initial dizziness wane before standing and shuffling over to Draco’s bedside.

Draco pulled back the covers, inviting Harry into bed with him. The dark-haired boy slid in gratefully, cuddling up to the blond with a sigh.

“And I remember how gorgeous you looked during the game,” Harry said softly, pressing a kiss against Draco’s neck. “So fierce and determined. Very sexy.”

“Oi, Potter,” Draco groaned, stretching his neck to give Harry better access. “We were talking about the game.”

Harry chuckled, nibbling around Draco’s Adam’s apple. He smiled when Draco gasped lightly at the sensation, kissing his way up to the Slytherin’s lips and claiming them in a deep kiss.

“You were saying?” Harry asked after a moment, pulling back to catch his breath.

“Hmm?” Draco hummed, tugging on Harry’s arm until he was sprawled across his chest.

“You wanted to –” Harry broke off with a moan when Draco started sucking on his neck, feeling himself start to get hard despite how sore and tired his body was.

“– talk about the game.”

Draco nipped at Harry’s collarbone, his fingers deftly untying the hospital gown Harry was wearing. He felt a sudden and overwhelming need to see Harry naked, and for once he was thankful of Pomfrey’s hospital gown policy. 

“Draco!” Harry whispered, casting an anxious glance toward the closed curtain that surrounded their beds. His flimsy hospital gown slipped down off his shoulders, leaving him completely nude. He would have complained again, but he saw Draco follow suit, quickly divesting himself of the thin cloth as well.

“Anyone could come by,” Harry protested weakly, letting Draco push him onto his back on the small bed. He groaned when he saw Draco fumble for some lotion on the bedside table, his face heating at the thought of Madam Pomfrey or one of their friends walking in.

“We’ll be quick, then,” Draco answered with a smirk, liberally coating his fingers in the lotion and circling Harry’s entrance with them. 

Harry continued to whisper soft protests, but his pants groans as Draco fingered him gave away his eagerness to continue. When Draco brought another lotion-covered hand up to fist Harry’s now fully erect cock, the dark-haired boy nearly arched up off the bed.

“Shh!” Draco chided, his eyes sparkling with amusement as Harry tried to hold back his moans. 

“Oh, you just wait,” Harry growled, pulling back and forcing Draco’s fingers to withdraw from his arse. He pushed the blond onto his back, climbing up to straddle him. “Let’s just see how quiet  _ you _ are.”

Draco slicked his cock with more of the lotion, holding it in place while Harry slowly lowered himself onto it. Both boys were panting with exertion by the time Harry was fully seated. Harry had bitten his lip nearly raw in his attempt to stay silent, while Draco’s jaw was tightly clenched and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Harry was determined to make Draco moan, so he used his trembling thigh muscles to raise himself up before slamming back down on Draco’s cock. 

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco cried, his eyes flying open as Harry fucked him roughly.

“Shh,” Harry reminded him, a wicked glint in his green eyes. 

He rode Draco mercilessly, intent on making the Slytherin beneath him forget the Quidditch match that Harry was fairly certain the blond had won. Draco’s strangled moans became more abandoned as he neared his release, and Harry fisted himself in time with his thrusts, intent on coming before Draco did.

“God, Draco,” Harry groaned softly, letting his orgasm overtake him. His entire body tensed as he spurted his release over Draco’s chest, his channel spasming around Draco’s cock and coaxing an equally spectacular orgasm out of the blond.

“Harry,” Draco whined as he came, his hips thrusting up off the bed to pump into Harry’s now-still body.

Draco could feel himself relax, though whether it was due to the potion or the orgasm, he couldn’t say. Harry was collapsed on top of his chest, his ragged breathing loud in Draco’s ear.

“We should get dressed,” Draco whispered, kissing Harry’s sweat-dampened hair. “Anyone could walk in, remember?”

Harry made a noncommittal grunt, burrowing his face deeper into Draco’s shoulder. By the time they heard shoes squeaking against the stone floor it was too late to do anything but pull the sheet up over their naked bodies, with Harry rolling to the side so they were shoulder-to-shoulder in the small hospital bed. Both of them were blushing bright red by the time the curtain surrounding their beds was pulled back, revealing Madam Pomfrey.

“Boys, I’ve news of who won the game. Your –” she broke off, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake! Mr. Potter, get out of Mr. Malfoy’s bed  _ at once _ .”


	6. Seamus tries romance

“ _ I, Seamus Finnigan, resolve to be more romantic in the New Year.” _

***

Harry sank into the cushy chair in front of the fire – the most coveted spot in the Gryffindor common room – with a heavy sigh. Hermione shook her head, tucking a thick blanket around him. He was shivering, a side effect from the potions he was still on to help him recover from his fall a few days earlier.

Lavender sat on the arm of the chair, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing pattern. He leaned against her, allowing her better access. He could hear Ron and Hermione talking softly on a nearby sofa, but the sound of Ron’s voice just made him burrow deeper into Lavender’s comforting embrace. It was unlike Ron to not be jealous of his girlfriend lavishing attention on another male, but after what Ron stumbled across in the Hospital Wing a few days before, Harry was pretty sure he knew he had nothing to worry about on that front.

It had been bad enough to learn that Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch match, pretty much ensuring Slytherin would win the House Cup. How unlucky could they have been that Madam Pomfrey had been leading a group of their friends back to visit with them when she discovered them after their impromptu romp? Ron still couldn’t look him in the eye, though he was doing an admirable job of trying to pretend nothing had happened. Still, Harry was mortified.

To make matters worse, a fourth year Hufflepuff had been in the cubicle next to them, recovering from a sprained ankle. He’d heard everything, and he’d wasted no time telling anyone who would listen what Harry and Draco had gotten up to in the Hospital Wing. Sure, they’d been involved in some pretty heavy snogging sessions in public before, but never sex.

“I think it’s romantic,” Seamus said, earning himself a glare from Hermione. Harry groaned, burying his face deeper in the chair.

“You have a warped sense of romance, Finnigan,” Lavender spat, wrapping her arm protectively around Harry.

“But –”

Harry stood abruptly, almost dislodging Lavender from her perch beside him. He steadied her with his hands, shooting her an apologetic look.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, walking through the silent common room toward his dorm. It had been like this for days. Anytime anyone saw either Harry or Draco, silence ensued, followed quickly by whispers and giggles. Was it not bad enough that he and Draco were to serve two weeks’ worth of detention with Filch as soon as they had fully recovered from their injuries?

The door banged open, and Harry spelled his curtains shut, unwilling to have any more discussions about his love life. Seamus had been dogging him constantly, trying to get tips on how to be a better lover. It was almost worse than the snickers and jokes he got from the rest of the school.

***

“What Harry needs is a diversion,” Hermione said, spreading a thin layer of jam on her scone.

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes at her before thickly coating his own scone in the same jam. He shoved it in his mouth, shaking his head as he chewed.

“I think he had enough of a  _ diversion _ with Malfoy after the match,” he muttered, shooting crumbs across the table. Lavender smacked him across the thigh, glaring at him for his poor manners.

“I meant he needs a diversion to get the school’s attention off of him,” Hermione hissed, setting her uneaten scone aside. Harry had been miserable for the last week, and it was past time they did something about it. Even the usually smug Draco was beginning to crack under the constant strain. “New gossip, a new relationship, something.”

Lavender looked at her appraisingly, her brow crinkled as she thought. They’d need something big – something that would cause every house to gossip. A slow smile spread across her face as inspiration struck, and she leaned in closer to Hermione and Ginny, her voice pitched to a whisper.

“Alright, here’s what we do. You know how Seamus has been trying to put the moves on Susan?” she asked, her smile brightening when both girls nodded. “I think it’s time we give him a bit of help … .”

***

Seamus straightened his tie, swallowing nervously. He was pacing outside the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, waiting for the first year who had opened the door to fetch Susan. He felt like an idiot, clutching the small potted cactus in his hands a lifeline as his dress shoes slapped against the stone floor.

Why had he listened to those girls? All kitted out in dress robes, holding a ridiculous prickly plant – he must be insane, Seamus concluded. Lavender was dating  _ Ron _ , for Merlin’s sake. What did  _ she _ know about romance? And Hermione had been slowly sleeping her way through their class since New Year’s Eve; she certainly couldn’t be trusted in these matters.

_ No, I should have gone with my instinct _ s, Seamus berated himself, his blue eyes flashing as he thought about how idiotic he must look at the moment. He’d very nearly convinced himself to turn around and leave, but the door swung open before he could.

Susan stood there, her cheeks already flushed with embarrassment. Seamus summoned his Gryffindor bravery and thrust the cactus at her, careful not to poke her with the sharp spines.

“It’s a cactus,” he said, a blush creeping across his own freckled cheeks when he realized how stupid his declaration was. “Er, I mean, I’ve brought you this cactus as a token of my affection.”

The girl blinked, taking the proffered pot from him. Susan stepped out fully into the corridor, letting the door to her common room – which was crowded with curious Housemates – shut gently.

Seamus’ mind went blank. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what Ginny had told him to say. She and Hermione had worked up a speech for him, but all words had fled as soon as he’d seen Susan’s mortified expression.

“It’sasymbolofwarmthandendurance,” he said in a rush, his scarlet face somewhat hidden as he stared at his polished shoes.

Susan’s eyes lowered to the cactus in her hands, studying it carefully. It seemed safer to stare at the prickly plant than the blushing Irishman.

He looked up, biting his lip at the puzzled expression on Susan’s face. She hadn’t been able to catch most of what the Gryffindor had been mumbling, though it was clear he was very nervous.

“I –” she paused, unsure what to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Seamus managed, turning on his heel and breaking into a run.

Lavender nearly stomped her foot from her spot under Harry’s invisibility cloak. She could hear Ginny’s quiet laughter, as well as Hermione’s grinding teeth.

“This is going to be harder than I anticipated,” she muttered, waiting until Susan had retreated into her common room before whipping the cloak off of them so they could find Seamus.

***

By breakfast, most of the Hufflepuffs were talking about Seamus Finnigan’s visit to their common room. It had been enough to stop the stares and snickers at Harry and Draco from that House, but not enough to spread to the others.

“We need a new plan,” Ginny said, leaning in to whisper to Hermione and Lavender.

Hermione glared at Seamus, who was beet red and staring at his porridge as though it had mortally offended him.

“This can still work,” Lavender insisted, snuggling closer into Ron’s embrace. He had one arm slung around her, the other free to shovel bacon into his mouth. Normally she’d complain, but after witnessing last night’s debacle Lavender was just grateful Ron wasn’t the hopeless case Seamus was. “We just have to be a little more … specific … in our instructions.”

Ginny sighed, watching Seamus stare at the table. He was normally confident and talkative, and she had no idea why the thought of asking a girl out on a date transformed him into such a bumbling idiot.

“More specific,” she said, lost in her plotting. “That could work.”

***

“Draco, we can’t –”

The blond growled, pushing Harry out of his lap. Harry hadn’t been willing to have sex since the unfortunate Hospital Wing incident, and Draco was beyond frustrated. A bloke who has a steady boyfriend shouldn’t have to  _ wank, _ at least in Draco’s estimation.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry muttered, his face bright red with embarrassment. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want _ to get off with Draco – Merlin only knew how much he wanted that – but he didn’t think he could take anymore ribbing from the student population, and several of the teachers, if they were caught again.

“What if we went outside?”

Harry groaned, burrowing his hot face into Draco’s shins. They were ensconced in a remote corner of the library behind a light Notice-Me-Not Spell.

“Too cold.”

Draco sighed heavily, pulling Harry back up into his lap. The dark-haired boy hid his face against Draco’s smooth neck, his breath hot against the pale skin.

“ _ Harry _ ,” Draco groaned, his waning erection jumping back to attention at the feel of Harry’s chapped lips against his neck.

“Harry?”

Both boys jumped at the voice. Draco opened his arms, letting Harry slide off his lap into a nearby chair. They managed to straighten their clothes satisfactorily before Seamus’ head came into view, peering into the dark alcove.

“There you are, Harry,” the Irishman said, not noticing the hostile glare Draco shot him.

“Did you need me, Shay?” Harry asked, his blush still staining his cheeks. It was dark enough it might go unnoticed, especially by someone as oblivious as his Housemate.

Seamus' sandy head nodded, and he sat heavily in one of the wooden chairs at the study carrel. Draco sighed roughly, flipping his Arithmancy text open. He obviously wasn’t going to get anymore private time with Harry, and he had no intention in getting involved in whatever Gryffindor foolishness the other boys were plotting.

“It’s Susan,” Seamus said, his own freckled cheeks heating at the mention of the Hufflepuff’s name. Draco kept his eyes on his book, but tuned into the conversation. Maybe it  _ would _ be worth listening to. “The girls want me to have another go, but I just don’t know what to do.”

Draco rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the complicated runes on the page in front of him. It was clear Seamus wasn’t there to share juicy gossip, if he hadn’t even managed to successfully ask the chit out yet.

Harry cleared his throat, a warning sound meant for Draco. The blond’s lips quirked, secretly glad Harry had been watching him closely enough to notice his expression.

“You just need to go in with a plan, Shay,” Harry said, studying his Housemate carefully. He was attractive, and he was a nice enough guy once you go to know him. He saw no reason Susan would reject his advances. “Be confident. Don’t  _ ask _ her out,  _ tell _ her she’s going out with you. Plan something romantic.”

Draco covered his laugh with a cough, burrowing deeper into his chair and raising his book to cover his face. Did Harry really think that was the way to approach a potential date? Really, he was absolutely hopeless.

“Something funny, Draco?” Harry asked, an annoyed edge to his voice.

“Not at all,” Draco said calmly, turning the page in his textbook.

“I suppose you have a better suggestion, then?” Harry continued, quirking an eyebrow in Draco’s direction.

Draco let his book fall to the table, returning Harry’s gaze. The dark-haired boy shivered slightly at what he saw in the smoky grey depths.

“I’m not sure  _ telling _ the poor girl she’s going to date him is the best approach,” Draco said, turning his gaze on Seamus. “That’s hardly romance. You need to seduce her, to make her  _ want _ to go out with you.”

Harry smirked, his green eyes flaring with something that made Draco’s mouth go dry.

“ _ You _ quite enjoy being told what to –”

“Sometimes,” Draco snapped, cutting Harry off before he could finish his sentence. Merlin, wasn’t their sex life in the spotlight enough already without adding more details to the rumors? “But we’re in an established relationship. Finnigan is courting Bones. He needs soft lighting, music, candlelight, flowers and sweets. He needs to woo her, to prove to her he’s worthy of her time and attention.”

Seamus was enthralled, hanging on Draco’s every word. So far, everyone he’d consulted at told him to be romantic, which was hardly any help, since he already knew that. No one had detailed what that meant, though.

“I took her a cactus,” Seamus said in a small voice, flinching when Draco shook his head and sighed deeply.

“A nice sentiment, but hardly what one would call romantic,” Draco drawled, pulling a piece of parchment out of his bag and jotting down a few things. He shoved the note across the table to Seamus.

“These would be more appropriate,” he said, watching as the other boy looked over the list of blooms he’d listed. They represented passion, unrequited love and devotion – much better messages than the cactus.  _ Really _ , Draco thought disparagingly,  _ warmth and endurance? What is Bones - his grandmother, for Merlin's sake?  _

Seamus nodded, folding the parchment to place in his pocket. He’d have to figure out where to get the flowers –

Draco sighed, closing his eyes. It was clear the Gryffindor was a hopeless case. He held his hand out, and a startled Seamus put the now-creased parchment in it.

“I’ll owl my florist,” Draco said, hoping the Gryffindors wouldn’t make too much of his generosity.  _ It’s purely selfish _ , he assured himself.  _ If Finnigan successfully woos Bones, the school will latch onto that, and the gossip about Harry and me will stop. Then maybe we can get back to having sex again. _

“Y-you will?”

Draco grimaced. He could see the beginnings of gratitude shaping the planes of Seamus’ face, and he didn’t want that.

“I will, as it’s clear you’re too incompetent to manage it on your own. I hardly trust you not to muck it up, and since you’re acting on  _ my _ advice, I can’t allow my reputation to suffer from your idiocy,” he snapped, happy to see the Irishman’s face fall. Harry was watching them both with an odd expression Draco couldn’t pinpoint.

“Meet me outside the Great Hall twenty minutes before dinner,” Draco continued, his lips twisted in a lazy smirk. “Ask the Weaselette to pick out an outfit for you. Tell her to think formal. I’ll take care of the rest.”

***

Lavender smirked, her expertly shaped eyebrow raising as Seamus rushed past, clutching his bag. His expression as a mixture of confusion and anger, which only heightened her amusement.

“Best idea ever,” she whispered to Ginny, who was crouched beside her. They were hiding in the stacks, hidden from view by shelves of dusty books about household cleaning spells. Their chance of discovery was almost nil; no one ever came to that particular section of the library.

“I just wish he’d waited a bit longer to interrupt Harry and Draco,” Ginny muttered, frowning at the boys in question, who were gathering up their books and quills. She’d hoped they might resume where they’d left off before the interruption.

Lavender laughed quietly, nudging Hermione with her boot.

“Oh, fine,” Hermione said, her tone exasperated. “You were right. It  _ was _ a good idea to send him to Draco for help.”

Of course, had they let Draco in on their plan, they all knew he would have refused. Having Seamus stumble in to ask Harry for help had been a stroke of genius. They all knew Draco was the romantic one in that relationship, even if the Slytherin was loath to admit it.

***

“You look fabulous, Shay,” Ginny purred, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles in his Muggle tuxedo.

He’d borrowed it from Dean, who used it over the summers. Dean was an accomplished pianist, and he frequently performed with symphonies during breaks. Most people didn’t know it, but Hogwarts had a music room, and he practiced there every chance he got, He’d even begun to experiment with combining magic and music, spelling instruments to accompany him and using charms to produce unusual effects.

“It’s not too, I don’t know, Muggle?”

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. Seamus really  _ did _ look spectacular. Hannah had darted over a few minutes ago, all agog over the silk gown “Seamus” had just sent over for Susan to wear to dinner. She had to hand it to him – Draco Malfoy knew how to make a statement.

“Let’s get down there,” she said, tugging on Seamus’ sweaty hand. Lavender was waiting outside with a Butterbeer spiked with Calming Draught to give him, and Ginny thought they’d better get him to drink it soon, before he sweated his way through Dean’s beautiful suit.

***

“You’re amazing,” Harry murmured, his hands roaming over Draco’s arse cheeks. He cupped the gentle swell through Draco’s trousers, giving him a suggestive squeeze.

“Tease,” Draco whispered, pulling back as the sound of footsteps grew nearer.

Seamus appeared in front of the doors to the Great Hall, looking apprehensive but surprisingly calm. Draco grinned, winking at Ginny. He’d supplied the Calming Draught himself, but he hadn’t thought the Gryffindor girls had it in them to drug their unsuspecting Housemate.

“Over here, Finnigan,” Draco called, drawing the other boy into the alcove he and Harry had settled themselves into after setting up their surprise in the Great Hall.

Ginny made to follow him, but Harry held a hand up, shaking his head.

“You’ve been a great help, Gin,” he said, giving Seamus’ outfit an approving glance, “but we can take it from here. You’ll just have to find out along with everyone else.”

Ginny pouted prettily, wrinkling her nose when she saw Harry wasn’t going to budge. She gave Seamus a quick kiss on the cheek for luck, repeated on Harry and, in a moment of sheer Gryffindor bravery, Draco, before turning and heading back to the tower.

“Emotional Gryffindors,” Draco muttered darkly, shoving a bouquet of colorful flowers into Seamus’ hands. He shook his head, working hard to control his expression. It wouldn’t do to show anyone he was actually pleased. “Alright, Finnigan, here’s the plan. I trust even an idiot like you won’t be able to mess it up … .”

***

Small groups of students began to trickle into the Great Hall for dinner shortly after Draco had given Seamus his instructions. All but a few select Gryffindors were floored by the sight that met them, though even Ginny, Lavender and Hermione hadn’t known exactly what to expect.

A small, elegantly set table had been placed near the Head Table. It sat squarely between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, and it was decorated in the colors of both houses. A tasteful vase of flowers rested on the gold tablecloth, and the delicate wrought iron chairs were adorned with crimson and black ribbons. The table was laid with fine china and crystal, and a bottle of mead was chilling in a bucket of ice nearby.

It had been a challenge to convince the Headmistress to allow the spectacle, as well as the mead, but Draco and Harry had made a very compelling case. Professor McGonagall was also tired of the constant snickering and suggestive comments aimed at her favorite student and his consort. Though she was surprised by their methods, she couldn’t help but agree that it would take an event of this magnitude to shift the students’ attention from Harry and Draco. She’d been even more surprised to learn the plan had been Draco’s, and that alone had nearly been enough to garner her permission. A Slytherin – the ruling Slytherin prince, to boot – taking the high road? It was almost unheard of, and it warmed her heart to see the positive influence Harry had wielded over Draco.

The Headmistress settled into her seat at the Head Table, watching the scene unfolding before her. Already, students were all atwitter over the specially laid table. Who would it be for? What was going on? Would the professors allow it? She smiled, directing her gaze at the large doors at the end of the hall. Most of the students had already arrived, which meant it was time for the show to begin.

***

Harry ran his hands over Seamus’ tuxedo, brushing at imaginary lint. He wanted this to be perfect. Moreover, he wanted both Seamus and Susan to look stunning so all attention would be drawn to them the moment they walked into the Great Hall.

Susan stood next to the Irishman, looking vaguely uncomfortable but happy. The deep blue silk gown Draco had provided looked amazing, and Lavender had snuck away to help her put some finishing touches on her hair and makeup.

Draco nudged Seamus, who rushed forward, offering the blushing witch his arm.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out on a romantic date for ages,” Seamus said, bending to whisper against Susan’s ear. “I reckon I would have been too shy to ever get it right without Malfoy’s help.”

Susan’s eyes widened as she looked from the dapper Gryffindor on her arm to the smug Slytherin leaning indolently against the wall. Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked, making the Hufflepuff’s blush darken even more.

“Merlin,” she breathed, her eyes returning to his earnest face. “That  _ is _ romantic.”

Seamus’ brow knotted as he considered her words. She hadn’t even been inside the Great Hall yet for the best part of the surprise – Draco had arranged for one of the Malfoy house-elves to cook a traditional French meal for them.

He led Susan inside, pausing as she turned once more to look at Harry and Draco.

“Asking one of the scariest Slytherins in school for help,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, Seamus.”

***

Harry didn’t waste any time. As soon as the thick oak door drifted shut between the couple, he grabbed Draco, pulling him away from the Great Hall.

“Dinner?” Draco asked, his eyes sparkling with a different sort of hunger as he studied Harry.

“Definitely,” Harry agreed, his voice husky. He turned, pulling Draco along after him, headed toward the Room of Requirement. “After, that is.”

***

The next morning, the entire school was abuzz over the happenings of the night before. There were those who swooned over Susan’s dress, or giggled over the way Seamus had stumbled when he pulled her chair out for her.

The Slytherins were all wondering how the Irishman had gotten McGonagall’s permission for such a farce, while the Ravenclaws discussed the meaning of the flowers he’d given Susan. The Hufflepuffs were consumed with House pride, still disbelieving that one of their own had been courted in such an elegant and romantic way. Only the Gryffindors had noticed the absence of two of the school’s hottest commodities the night before, though none of them needed to speculate on where they’d been or what they’d been up to. After all, hadn’t they only just managed to end the gossip?


	7. Theo gets some help studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: There will be a het scene in this chapter. If that squicks you, don’t read the end. 

***

_“I, Theodore Nott, resolve to spend more time studying so I am prepared for my N.E.W.T.s in the New Year.”_

***

“Again?”

Theo rolled his eyes and nodded. Draco’s exasperated tone meant trouble, and he knew it.

“Last weekend you missed Hogsmeade –”

“Because I had an Arithmancy exam. So did you,” Theo answered, giving the blond a disapproving glare.

Draco sighed, switching tactics. He was trying to pull together one of their infamous Slytherin parties, and for that he needed Theo.

“N.E.W.T.s aren’t for months,” Draco said, shrugging easily. “One night of fun won’t hurt you. It may even do you some good. Studies show that –”

“Studies show you’re a manipulative bastard who will stop at nothing, even making up research, to get his way,” Theo said dryly, throwing his Transfiguration book into his bag. He’d been falling behind this week because he couldn’t master the latest spell, and he fully intended to cloister himself in the library until he had it down, even if it took all weekend.

“Theo,” Draco whined, frowning at one of his oldest friends. 

“Draco,” Theo answered, his tone mocking. He heaved his bag up on his shoulder, checking the pocket of his Muggle denims for his wand. 

Draco sighed, throwing himself into an elegant heap on the sofa. He could see he wasn’t going to win this one, and truth be told, he didn’t want to push Theo any further. He admired his friend’s determination, even if he questioned his methods. Then again, Theo didn’t have millions of Galleons in the bank as a safety net should his career plans tank. He was from an old pure-blood family, but they’d lost most of their money during the first rise of Voldemort. 

“The key to the spell is visualization,” Draco said, his voice bored. Theo knew better, though. Draco was always willing to do whatever necessary to help his friends, he just didn’t like anyone to know that. “Unlike most Transfigurations, this one draws from your mental conception of the end goal. Get a clearer picture in your mind and you’ll get a better result.”

Theo nodded, heading toward the door. He knew better than to thank Draco for the advice. The blond’s reputation had taken a beating after Seamus let it slip that the Slytherin had been the mastermind behind his romantic gesture a few weeks ago, and Draco had been amping up the cold bastard routine ever since in an attempt to salvage his image.

As soon as the door swung shut, Draco jumped up, taking the dormitory stairs two at a time. The party wasn’t scheduled to start for a few hours, and he knew Blaise had a contact in Ravenclaw who was almost as good at procuring alcohol as Theo. Maybe the party wouldn’t be a bust, after all.

***

“Oh, come on!” Ron whined loudly, collapsing into a chair near the base of the girls’ staircase. He’d been waiting for Lavender for what seemed like _hours_ , and she still wasn’t ready.

“You can wait one more minute, Ronald Weasley!” Lavender shouted, and Ron flinched at the unspoken threat in her words. If he didn’t watch it, the only action he’d be getting after the party was from his own hand.

“Sure, sure,” he called back, hoping she couldn’t hear the way he rolled his eyes as he said it. He wouldn’t put it past her, especially since she was holed up with Hermione.

Harry had gone more than an hour ago to “help Draco set up the party”, which Ron was pretty sure was a thinly veiled excuse for a pre-party fuck. Even Seamus had already left. _He and Susan are probably already at second base,_ Ron thought grumpily, glaring at the empty stairs. Seamus’ relationship had really taken off. Ron had been shocked at all the things the Irishman and the usually shy Hufflepuff had gotten up to. She was incredibly flexible and inventive, if Seamus was to be believed.

Ron looked up as Lavender stomped down the stairs, her face darkened in a pout. The last vestiges of hope for the evening fled as he looked at her stony face.

“She’s not coming,” Lavender announced, grabbing Ron’s hand and dragging him out of the chair and toward the portrait hole.

“Hermione?”

Lavender huffed out a sigh. “Of course, Hermione. Is there anyone _else_ left in the dorm? Everyone’s already there.”

Ron clenched his jaw, willing himself not to respond. Wasn’t that _exactly_ what he’d been telling her for the last twenty minutes?

“I can’t believe she’s missing the party of the year to study,” Lavender muttered, pulling Ron toward the dungeons.

Ron laughed, shaking his head. If Lavender was so excited about the party, surely he could coax her out of her bad mood with some dancing and alcohol? 

“It’s Hermione,” he said by way of explanation.

Lavender shot him a small smile, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, I know. But she’s been so much more fun lately that it’s easy to forget.”

***

Hermione squinted at her reflection in the mirror, adding another coating of lip gloss. She’d learned a lot about makeup and clothes this term from her new friendship with Lavender, and she was pulling all the stops out tonight. 

“Right then,” she muttered to herself, smoothing her hands over her short leather skirt. Her hands followed the curve of her arse, admiring the tight leather that stopped almost indecently high. She threw her robes over her nearly sheer blouse, covering up the fact that she had forgone a bra. 

Hermione giggled to herself, feeling indescribably naughty as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the library to meet Theo. No bra and no knickers would make for a very interesting study session indeed. After all, Theo had asked for her help studying Transfiguration tonight. She smirked, sure her outfit would produce at least _one_ successful transfiguration.

***

“Great party!” Neville shouted, clapping Draco on the back.

Draco turned, nodding at the Gryffindor. It was obvious Neville had already had a few drinks from the way his hand was slowly snaking its way up Pansy’s shirt. From the looks of things, she was on her way to tanked as well, since she was doing nothing to stop it.

“It is, isn’t it?” Draco replied without the slightest bit of modesty. Slytherin was known for its killer parties, and he wasn’t above taking credit when he was the mastermind.

Draco looked out over the sea of older students crammed into the Slytherin common room. The music was blaring – something Muggle was playing at the moment, but Draco didn’t mind because it had a great beat – and the alcohol was freely flowing. They’d set an age line at the door, so only seventh years, both classes of them, were present. The younger Slytherins had all been dispatched to their dorms, the older ones bribed with small amounts of alcohol and the younger ones with candy and other treats. 

He scanned the room for Harry, whom he’d lost about an hour ago. He spotted him in the corner, dancing on a table. Draco growled, angry until he realized who else was there – his boyfriend was currently grinding against a very inebriated gangly redhead. _No threat there,_ Draco thought wryly, raising his drink above his head so it didn’t spill as he made his way through the writhing throng of people. _Ron will probably beg someone to Obliviate him if he remembers this in the morning._ Draco laughed, watching as Harry peeled his tight T-shirt off and flung it at Ron. _Harry, too._

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Lavender cried when Draco approached, clearly tired of trying to coax the boys off the table. 

“Things get a bit out of control?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow at the dancing boys.

Lavender glared at him, grabbing his drink as Draco passed and taking a swallow of it. She choked, staring incredulously into the half-full cup.

“Soda?”

Draco laughed, leveling his wand at Harry to cast a discreet Sobriety Spell. It wouldn’t completely ruin the dark-haired boy’s buzz, but it would make him coherent enough to realize dancing on a table and frotting against his best friend was probably a bad idea.

“I don’t generally drink at these things,” Draco explained, helping a now-blushing Harry off the table and casting the same spell on Ron. “Someone needs to keep a level head, after all.”

Ron grimaced, wincing gingerly after jumping down off the tabletop. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been doing up there, but between Draco’s smirk, Lavender’s glare and Harry’s blush, he was pretty sure it was bad.

“Not a bad idea,” Lavender said, handing the soda back to Draco and grabbing Ron’s wrist. “I can think of someone _else_ who will only be drinking soda from here on out, too.”

***

“– if you just adjust your grip like this,” Hermione said, her fingers wrapped around Theo’s, changing the way he held the base of his wand, “you’ll get much better results.”

Theo tried the incantation again, slamming his wand down on the table in frustration when the parchment on the table in front of him failed to morph into a sapling once again. He’d tried Draco’s visualization technique and all of Hermione’s suggestions, but he couldn’t make it work. 

Hermione laid her hand over his, squeezing it gently. 

“It’s a difficult concept, Theo,” she said, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. It certainly wasn’t out of his grasp as a wizard, but she could tell it was making him doubt his skills. “It isn’t that you _can’t_ do it, just that your mind hasn’t fully accepted it’s possible.”

They were working on a difficult Transfiguration, coaxing a past life out of an object. The parchment, with the correct incantation and intent, would revert to its original state: a tree. Properly done, the Transfiguration would be permanent. It was their end-of-term project; Transfiguring the parchment into a sapling and then nurturing that tree so it would take root and grow. It was the only way to prove they had successfully Transfigured it into a living thing. If he didn’t manage it soon he was sure to fall the course, since McGonagall wanted the saplings to be at least two months old when she inspected them at the end of the term.

Theo frowned, raising his wand to try the spell again. He looked up, surprised, when Hermione stopped him.

“I have an idea that might help,” she murmured, and Theo swallowed at the husky quality her voice had taken on. 

She unbuttoned the first few fasteners on her robe, letting it slip down over her shoulder to expose the sheer fabric of her blouse. Hermione heard Theo gasp, a slow grin spreading across her face. They were alone in the library; not even Madam Pince lingered that late on a Saturday night. Seventh years had a special dispensation to remain in the library after it closed, since ostensibly they could be trusted to behave and they needed the extra study time.

Still, any of their fellow seventh years – or one of the professors – could wander in at any time. It made Hermione’s plan dangerous enough to heighten her arousal. 

“Hermione?” Theo whispered, raising a hand to run down over her collarbone. He slipped his hand into her robes, gasping again when his fingers ran over her hardened nipple, making it clear the sheer blouse wasn’t her only surprise. They’d been sleeping with each other on and off for months, but he’d never known Hermione to be so wanton – no bra in a public place? It was enough to make his cock jump to attention, wondering what other surprises she had in store.

“You can definitely manage the spell,” she said, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. He shivered as her hot breath ghosted over his neck. “You just haven’t had the right motivation.”

She slipped out of the rest of her robes, tossing them carelessly over the back of her chair. She knew the prim way she’d crossed her legs made the tight leather mini-skirt even more revealing, and she leaned forward, making sure her breasts brushed against Theo’s arm.

“Hermione!” Theo glanced around, double checking to make sure they were the library’s only occupants. But Hermione had, as always, done her research and chosen her moment well. She knew every other student in their year would be in the Slytherin common room right now, and any professors out on the prowl for rule-breakers would be congregating in the dungeons, too, hoping to catch a drunken student or two.

“Now,” she said, grasping the hand that now limply held Theo’s wand, “raise your wand –” 

Hermione choked off a suggestive laugh, running her bare foot up Theo’s leg to ensure his other wand was raised as well.

“– and cast the incantation,” she finished, giving him a saucy wink.

Theo was having trouble concentrating on the wand in his hand, but he gamely tried anyway. 

“ _Redeo Prius Forma_ ,” he rasped, his eyes on Hermione instead of the blank parchment in front of him.

Hermione tutted, shaking her head at his failed attempt. The parchment hadn’t even wavered.

“Your focus is off,” she said, letting her foot slide back to the floor. Theo whimpered at the loss, canting his hips forward in search of contact. “Again.”

His wand trembling in his hand, Theo turned his gaze to the parchment, repeating the incantation. This time, to his surprise, the parchment shivered and sprouted a thin layer of bark across its surface. 

“Excellent,” Hermione purred, flicking her own wand to banish the half-Transfigured parchment and replace it with a new sheet. She uncrossed her legs, giving Theo a feral smile when he watched the movement carefully. “Again.”

Resolved to get it right this time, Theo concentrated fully on the parchment, envisioning it as a strong sapling with vibrant green leaves. He leveled his wand and cast, pouring his vision into the words as they passed his lips.

The parchment trembled again, curling into itself and shooting up, growing bark and tender leaves as it transformed. Seconds later, a tiny sapling sat on the table, no sign of the parchment it once was left behind.

“Theo, you did it!” Hermione cried, clapping her hands in delight. The movement made her breasts bounce under her sheer shirt, and Theo groaned at the sight.

“This calls for a reward,” she murmured, letting her hands slide down his body to rest on his cock, which was straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Merlin, yes,” he moaned, bucking up into her palm as she stroked him through the wool. He lifted a hand to delve under her skirt, delighted to find there wasn’t anything between the tight leather and her skin. “Best study session ever.”

Hermione laughed, easing Theo’s zipper down. The sound was loud in the quiet room, but neither noticed. She’d just managed to unfasten the buttons and wrest his erection free from his boxers when the distinctive sound of the doors opening echoed through the library.

“Fuck,” Theo swore quietly, whipping his hand out of Hermione’s skirt. They heard Hannah’s voice calling out to them.

Hermione shot Theo a wicked grin before slithering under the table. As soon as she was situated between his thighs she snaked a hand up to grab her bag. A second later he thrust her book under the table as well.

“Oh,” Hannah said, finally rounding the corner and finding Theo’s study carrel. She looked around, confused. “Harry said Hermione was here, too. Draco told me you were working on Transfiguration. I’d love to watch.”

Theo cleared his throat, biting back a moan when Hermione’s hand fisted up and down his rock hard shaft. Clearly, his reward was going to proceed, audience or not.

“S-she left a b-bit ago,” he stammered, his face heating both with the lie and the fabulous things the witch in question was currently doing to his cock.

Hannah plunked herself down at the table, digging a copy of _Transfiguration for Dummies: Everyday transformations even a Squib could manage_ on the table in front of her. Thankfully, Hermione noticed from her spot under the table, the girl had chosen a seat a few down from where she and Theo were sitting.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Hannah asked innocently, her brow furrowing as Theo failed to answer her.

“You don’t mind if I watch, do you?” she repeated, studying the Slytherin’s slightly sweaty face.

Theo forced himself to look at Hannah, trying to keep his voice even as Hermione’s talented tongue drew a stripe up the underside of his erection.

“H-haven’t been h-having much luck with the s-spell,” he stuttered, his entire body tense from pleasure and fear of discovery.

Hannah motioned toward the small sapling still sitting on the table in front of him.

“T-that was H-Hermione’s,” he stammered, his face scarlet with embarrassment, excitement and the effort of keeping his moans quiet.

“Oh, then it’s too bad she’s left,” Hannah said, turning her attention back to her own book. She read silently for a few minutes, paying Theo no mind. Hermione kept up her ministrations, sucking the head of Theo’s cock into her mouth. He gasped at the sensation, throwing himself back hard against the chair when she slid her mouth down, almost fully engulfing him in the wet heat.

“Theo? Are you alright?” Hannah asked, looking at him with concern.

“F-fine,” he managed, his hands clamped like vises against the bottom of the chair to keep himself from squirming even more.

“So you understand the theory and you’re just having trouble with the spell?” Hannah asked, oblivious to his continued distress. “I heard it’s wickedly hard. Not everyone can manage it, at least that’s what Susan told me. Merlin knows I surely couldn’t.”

She paused, waiting for a response from the Slytherin. He wasn’t generally talkative, but tonight’s level of reticence was unusual, even for him. She turned, watching with interest as Theo clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly.

“Oh my,” she said, afraid she’d offended him. Her own lack of skill with Transfiguration was legendary, but she’d never meant to imply he couldn’t do it. She’d actually been trying to give him a pep talk.

“It’s –” her eyes widened as he began to pant, his breath coming in small, uneven gasps. Thinking he was on the verge of tears, Hannah hurriedly gathered up her book and stuffed it back in her bag. In her experience, Slytherins hated having witnesses to their weakness. Dating Blaise hadn’t done much for her Transfiguration skills, but it had taught her that much.

“I’ll just go,” she said, averting her eyes when Theo groaned and bit his lip. _He must really be trying hard not to cry, poor thing_ , she thought. She risked a quick pat on his shoulder as she passed, shocked to feel the tension in his muscles. She knew he was taking N.E.W.T.s seriously, but she’d never known _how_ seriously.

“Er, you’ve plenty of time to master it,” she said, hoping to cheer him up. “I think I’ll head back down to the party. It’s still going strong, if you’d like to go.”

She paused again, noticing Hermione’s discarded robes for the first time. They were still hanging over the back of the chair. 

“Hermione left her robes,” she said, grabbing the black material and stuffing it into her bag as well. Hermione had probably given up studying and headed down to the party herself, and she could give them to her when she saw her. “I’ll just take them to her, shall I?”

“G-good,” Theo grumbled, his eyes still closed as he fought off his climax. They might have fooled the Hufflepuff so far, but there was no way even Hannah could mistake an orgasm for anything else.

Hannah nodded, hurrying toward the door. She didn’t want to make poor Theo feel any worse about his failures than he already did. She opted for silence as she made her escape, and she wasn’t the only one who felt a tremor of relief when the heavy library door swung shut behind her.

“Fucking hell, Hermione,” Theo ground out, releasing his death grip on the chair and letting himself buck up into her mouth. It only took a few more strokes and sucks before he was coming hard enough to see spots.

Hermione stroked Theo’s balls lightly, teasing every last bit of come out of him. After all, he’d definitely earned his reward, even if a blow job wasn’t what she’d initially had in mind. Hannah had said the party was still going on, though, which meant she’d be able to sneak him back to her room – being the Head Girl had _some_ benefits, after all – for a quick fuck before curfew.

“Jesus,” Theo groaned, scooting his chair back so Hermione could climb out from under the table. His eyelids, drooping from the force of his orgasm, shot open again as he looked at her. He hadn’t been able to get the full effect of her outfit before, and he felt his spent cock twitch at the delicious picture she made, all long legs and soft curves. The skirt was so short it barely covered her arse, and he could see her pebbled nipples through the sheer blouse.

“She took my robes,” Hermione said with a frown. How was she going to get back to Gryffindor Tower without her robes? 

“Serves you right,” Theo muttered, tucking his growing cock back into his pants. He’d be fully hard again in just a moment if she kept standing there like that, one hand on her hip, biting her already full lips as she puzzled over what to do.

“I didn’t hear any complaints out of you at the time,” she snapped, looking around in her bag for something to cover herself for the long walk to Gryffindor. Theo wasn’t wearing robes, so she couldn’t just borrow his, she noted with a grimace.

“I hardly bloody well open my mouth at all, could I?” he answered, a laugh escaping as he watched her ransack both their bags for something to wear. “More likely to moan than anything if I had.”

He stepped forward, running his hands up the side of her thin blouse. She shivered as his warm palms grazed her skin, turning toward him so he could kiss her deeply.

“It was brilliant,” he murmured against her lips, letting his renewed erection brush against her hip so she knew he was only teasing as he continued on “–and shocking behavior from the famed Gryffindor princess.”

“Mmm,” she answered, deepening the kiss and rubbing against him. The sensations from the slippery leather were delicious.

“Not here,” he groaned, capturing her wrists in his hands and pushing her away. “Your room.”

Hermione glared at him, looking down at her outfit.

“And how do you suggest I get there, since you were the one who saw fit to let Hannah Abbott walk off with my robes?”

Theo chuckled, releasing his wand from its holster and handing it to her base first.

“You’re my self-appointed Transfiguration tutor,” he said with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow at her and nodding to the pile of parchment on the table. “Why don’t you tell me?”


	8. Luna hunts for Snorkacks

_ “I, Luna Lovegood, resolve to return to Sweden to continue my hunt for the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack in the New Year.” _

***

“These are not acceptable,” Draco said flatly, his grey eyes flashing as he took in their rustic accommodations. The blond was seething over the Muggle tent Harry was struggling to erect.

Harry sighed, watching as Draco stomped off into the trees. He knew the Slytherin wouldn’t go far – they were in an unfamiliar forest miles from any sort of civilization, and Draco was far from stupid. Harry was sure he’d linger just out of sight for long enough to ensure Harry had done all the work, though.

“Luna, tell me again why we can’t use magic to set up the tents?”

Luna settled her dreamy gaze on Harry, her usually misty blue eyes sharpening as she set her own tent aside and moved closer.

“Don’t speak so loudly,” she murmured, her voice pitched low. “It’s mating season, and loud noises disrupt the natural mating habits of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

Harry found himself lowering his voice, despite feeling like an idiot for doing so.

“But magic, Luna? You really expect us to camp like Muggles for a week?” Harry looked past his blonde friend, searching for Draco’s distinctive head in the trees. He was sure his boyfriend was somewhere nearby listening.

“We haven’t any choice in the matter, Harry,” Luna said seriously, helping him untangle the slippery fabric he was trying to force over the unyielding tent poles. “It’s illegal for us use magic in this forest. I had to sign an oath that we wouldn’t when I applied for the camping permit.”

Harry gritted his teeth.  _ No doubt magic interfers with the mysterious buggers’ mating rituals, too _ , he thought acidly. Then again, that would mean the Swedish Ministry actually acknowledged the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack which, to his knowledge, it did not. Wasn’t that the whole point of this expedition?

“Because of the Snorkacks?” he asked, only just managing to keep his tone level. After all, he had been the one to agree they’d accompany Luna on this camping trip. He should have asked for more details before they set out.

“No, of course not,” Luna answered, affronted. “The Crumple-Horned Snorkack is a magical creature itself, Harry. Magic wouldn’t interfere with its habitat in the least.”

Harry waited a beat, willing himself to be calm. He loved Luna, but he wasn’t sure he could take a full week of her vagueness.

“It’s because the Swedish Ministry doesn’t trust foreign wizards to uphold its strenuous secrecy acts,” Draco drawled from behind them. Harry turned, his cock jumping when he realized how sexy the blond looked leaning against a tree, his arms crossed loosely over his torso. “Wizards traveling abroad must have a special visa to perform any sort of magic in most countries. Honestly, Potter, one would think you’d never traveled outside of Great Britain before.”

Harry frowned, sliding a long pole through hoops in the tent fabric. His face heated at Draco’s words and he doubled his efforts, concentrating on the task at hand instead of responding to the blond.

“It’s because he  _ hasn’t _ traveled outside Great Britain, Draco,” Luna murmured, picking up the other end of the pole and helping Harry fasten it to the stake that would hold it down. “Or much within the country, I’d imagine.”

Harry flushed darker. He hadn’t told Draco much about his childhood. He’d rather pretend neither he nor Draco had a history, that their lives started the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. It was so much easier that way.

“Well, it’s a good thing he has us, then,” Draco said, pushing off from the tree and helping Luna tackle her own tent without another word.

Harry hid his grin of relief, focusing on making the final adjustments to his and Draco’s tent. While he was sure they’d have been more comfortable in a wizarding tent, Harry was pretty sure they’d find a way to make the most of it. Suddenly the bottle of Muggle lube Draco had packed made much more sense.

***

Harry slogged through the dense underbrush, his temper growing fouler every time a branch or bramble snagged his jumper or denims. They’d been out in these godforsaken woods for three days, and Harry hadn’t seen any action at all. No Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. No sex from Draco. Nothing.

Even  _ thinking _ about sex and Draco in the same sentence made his cock jump. He hadn’t been able to coax the blond into so much as a hand job, since the Slytherin didn’t want to Luna to overhear them and Silencing Charms were out because they weren’t allowed to use magic. Harry had wanked, of course, but the hurried release hadn’t done much to quell his growing frustration.

During the day, both boys threw themselves into Luna’s mythical creature hunt, which made it easier for Harry to keep his mind off sex. They often split up, searching three separate areas of the forest to maximize the ground they were able to cover in the short time they had there. At night, though, things became more frustrating. Sleeping curled up against each other in the tent was getting increasingly difficult. He’d hardly gotten any sleep at all last night, since Draco’s frustrating nearness made him so horny.

Harry stared at his feet morosely, carefully watching his footing on the uneven ground. Today he’d been assigned to watch a small pond that Luna swore was the ideal mating spot for the creatures. He knew Draco was close by, having been dispatched to explore a series of caverns Luna thought might hold Snorkack nests.

His ears perked up at an unfamiliar sound, something out of place in the quiet forest. It sounded like – panting? Harry hurried forward, no longer worried about tripping in the tall grass and brambles. Was it possible that Luna wasn’t wrong? That the Crumple-Horned Snorkack really  _ did _ exist?

Harry broke through an opening the dense trees, blinking quickly in the sudden brightness. He’d stumbled upon a clearing, and he was able to appreciate the full effect of the midday sun’s rays for the first time in days. He stretched, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine. As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the light, though, he stilled his motions, his mouth dropping open at the unexpected sight in front of him.

The panting noises hadn’t been from one of Luna’s mythical creatures. Draco lay sprawled in the soft grass, his sturdy cargo pants wrapped artlessly around his ankles, wanking furiously. He hadn’t noticed Harry’s arrival, so caught up in the throes of his frenzied movements. 

Harry’s heart slammed against his chest, and he moved soundlessly toward Draco, shedding clothing as he went. He didn’t pause to consider that anyone could happen upon them, as he had just happened up on Draco, or that the blond might not welcome his company. 

Draco whimpered, his eyes shut tight against the light. One hand was wrapped around his thick cock, stroking it in time with the two fingers plunging in and out of his arse. He looked like pure, concentrated sex, and Harry couldn’t restrain the groan that fell from his lips.

Grey eyes snapped open at the sound, and Draco’s entire body stiffened in surprise. He seemed to sigh in relief when he recognized the intruder, letting his eyes fall shut again and resuming his ministrations. 

“Jesus Christ, Draco,” Harry muttered, his breath catching again when Draco arched up, his abandoned cock twitching, as his fingers found his prostate. Harry toed off his shoes and sank down next to his boyfriend, running a finger down his torso in a light caress. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Waiting –” Draco panted, grinding against his own fingers. Harry’s cock pulsed at the sight, nearly enough to send him over the edge. “– for you.”

Harry groaned, grabbing the bottle of Muggle lube from the grass beside Draco’s hips and slathering his cock generously with the clear, viscous fluid. It was slipperier and more synthetic-feeling than the oil they usually Conjured, but he was in no state to care.

“Three fucking days of not being able to touch you,” Harry murmured, his voice husky from arousal and need. Draco canted his hips up even further, removing his fingers from his already stretched arse. It was all the invitation Harry needed; the Gryffindor scooted forward, resting Draco’s ankles on his shoulders as he guided the head of his cock toward Draco’s entrance. “I’ve been losing my mind _.” _

Draco laughed, squirming a bit to force the fleshy head of Harry’s cock to breach him. Both boys gasped at the sensation as Harry pressed deeper, entering Draco slowly so the blond had a chance to adjust to the intrusion.

A fine sheen of sweat covered Harry’s chest as he fought off his climax. He’d been aroused all day, and stumbling across Draco in such a wanton position had nearly brought about his release on its own. He bit his lip, panting with the effort of keeping his strokes slow and even.

“Harry,” Draco whined, thrusting his hips up against the Gryffindor to deepen the angle. “Stop fucking around. Harder.”

Harry lost control at Draco’s words, pushing his hips forward quickly and driving himself into the blond. Draco, who had been keeping himself on the edge of orgasm while he waited for Harry to show up, arched underneath him and came with a harsh cry after only a few more strokes.

The feeling of Draco contracting around him was too much for Harry, who came with an almost silent groan seconds later. Harry’s arms trembled with the effort of keeping the weight of his body off of the blond beneath him, but he didn’t pull away just yet, reveling in the closeness of their still-joined bodies. As much as he had missed sex over the last few days, he’d also missed this intimacy.

Draco didn’t complain, used to this post-coital cuddle by now. Harry was very tactile, and he always prolonged their skin-on-skin contact after sex as long as he could get away with. Usually Draco objected, but today he was content to let Harry’s sweaty weight press him into the soft grass. He’d missed this contact, too, though he would never admit it.

“Potter,” Draco finally growled once the high of his orgasm had worn off and he began to notice the uneven ground and sharp stones underneath him.

Harry groaned, pulling out of Draco slowly and rolling to the side. He winced when a broken twig poked him in the back, sitting up quickly. Draco sat up as well, stretching and grimacing as his abused muscles protested.

“Sorry,” Harry said with a sheepish, but unrepentant, grin.

“You should be, you dolt,” Draco snapped back, but his voice lacked any real heat. “Took you long enough to find me. I was beginning to worry Lovegood had a better chance of finding those damnable beasts she’s after than you did of finding me here.”

Harry stuck his tongue out playfully as he struggled back into his trousers. It was early spring, but the weather was still rather cool in Sweden. He hadn’t noticed while they’d been otherwise engaged, but his sweat was cooling rapidly, leaving his skin a bit chilled.

“How was I to know you wanted me to find you, prat?”

Draco shrugged into his shirt, smoothing the fabric over his stomach. Harry felt his arousal surge again at the sight of the utterly debauched-looking blond. He snickered, knowing Draco would go spare if he knew how tangled his usually pristine locks were at the moment.

“I thought it would be obvious,” he said lacing up his boots while watching Harry stoop to grab his jumper. Though he preferred robes, Draco did appreciate the way the Muggle clothes they were wearing on this expedition hugged their bodies. Harry had a very nice arse.

“Obvious to whom? I’m not a bloody mind-reader.”

Draco laughed, standing and helping Harry pull his thick jumper over his head, being careful not to let the collar catch on his glasses.

“To any teenaged male who hasn’t had anything but an unsatisfying wank in three days,” Draco whispered in his ear, gratified to hear the slight catch in Harry’s breathing at his nearness.

“And why is that, by the way? We can shag in full view of anyone passing by, but we can’t do anything more than wank in our tent?”

Draco shrugged, pocketing the small bottle of lube. There was still enough left for another few shags, and he was sure they’d put it to good use before they returned to Scotland at the end of the week.

“Let’s tell Lovegood we’ll search together tomorrow, yeah?” 

Harry grinned, his stomach flipping at Draco’s suggestive leer. He couldn’t wait to find out how soft the meadow’s grass was tomorrow when he got his chance to be the one on his back.

“Better get back,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hand and trudging back to the edge of the trees. 

***

Harry was putting the finishing touches on dinner, having been appointed the official cook for their camping adventure. He was the only one of the three with any experience cooking without magic, so it seemed natural that he’d be the one to man the fire.

Luna had come prepared with plenty of tinned and dried food, and he had been able to throw together reasonably tasty meals for them. He’d never actually been Muggle camping before, and Harry was finding – especially now that he was no longer deprived of sex – that he really enjoyed it.

Draco helped him carry the bowls of hearty stew to the make-shift table they had arranged after their arrival by dragging several thick logs over to a large, flat stone. The campsite was cozy, situated in a small break in the trees so they had cover from rain and sun and plenty of leaves and sticks to provide fuel for their fire.

“Delicious, Harry,” Luna said after her first bite, savoring the hot meal. The nights were more than a little cool, but they’d managed to stave off the chill with hearty dinners and plenty of tea brewed over the fire. The Muggle sleeping bags Draco had purchased before the trip were plenty warm, and the tents helped keep the worst of the wind and cold out.

They ate in relative silence, famished from yet another day spent exploring the rough terrain. When everyone – even Draco, who had originally scoffed at the idea of eating tinned food – had finished their second helping, Harry broached the subject of the next day’s search.

“Er, Luna,” he said, blushing when the blonde looked up from the map she was studying. “Draco and I thought it might be more, um, productive if the two of us teamed up tomorrow.”

The dreamy Ravenclaw smiled, her blue eyes sparkling in the firelight as she nodded enthusiastically.

“Excellent idea, Harry,” she said seriously, clapping her hands in excitement. “We only have a few days left, and I think that might be just the thing to draw the Snorkacks out of hiding!”

Draco frowned, unsure of how the two of them wandering the forest together would help them find the creatures the batty girl was so sure lurked around here. He’d agreed to go on this trip because it meant spending the spring hols with Harry instead of moping around alone at Malfoy Manor. He had every intention of closing the monstrous house up as soon as he left Hogwarts and buying a flat in the city, hopefully one he and Harry could share.

“Well, it’s their mating season,” she said in answer to Draco’s unspoken question, making him furrow his brow even more.

Luna reached over, plucking a twig from Draco’s tousled hair. Both Draco and Harry blushed as she tossed it to the ground, though the delighted blonde was oblivious to their discomfort.

“It was the reason I asked you two along,” she said matter-of-factly, her blue eyes not showing a hint of guile. “I was a bit disappointed, actually, when it became clear you weren’t having sex. I had hoped the Snorkacks would be more comfortable showing themselves to another mated pair, but after a few days I just assumed what I’d heard about you two shagging at every available opportunity was wrong.”

Draco squeaked indignantly, and Harry’s mouth gaped as he stared at his friend. She’d brought them along for the sole purpose of having sex?

Luna cleared away the dishes, carrying them to the bucket of water Harry had hauled from a nearby stream so they could wash up after the meal. She was humming softly to herself, acting as though she’d been commenting on the weather, not their sex life.

“They’re mostly nocturnal, you know,” she called over her shoulder, waving a sudsy hand at them. “You might want to go try again.”


	9. Lavender dates more

_ “I, Lavender Brown, resolve to date more in the New Year.” _

***

It was an argument everyone in the Gryffindor common room was tired of hearing. Harry started down the steps from the seventh year boy’s dormitory, smirking when he heard the angry voices drifting up the stairwell the moment the door shut behind him.

“– not enough for you?”

“That’s not it, and you know it!”

The fight was escalating quickly. Harry looked at his watch – just after 8 p.m. Right on time. Lavender and Ron were more reliable than a clock these days. Every Friday night for the last month had gone just like this, starting at 8 p.m., when Lavender’s date of the evening would swing by to pick her up.

“– meant something!”

Harry paused a few steps from the bottom, waiting for Lavender’s standard reply. When it didn’t come, he dashed into the room, certain the witch had finally had enough and was on the verge of hexing Ron.

Instead, he saw Hermione between them, speaking softly to both Lavender and Ron. They seemed to be considering whatever she was telling them, and the rest of the room watched warily. From their expressions, Harry figured he hadn’t been that far off on his guess that Lavender had reached her breaking point.

“Alright?” Hermione asked, no longer whispering.

Ron glared at her, while Lavender’s back went ramrod straight. Harry thought they were about to resume their argument, surprised when they both nodded to Hermione and went their separate ways; Ron, up to the dorms, and Lavender out the portrait hole toward her waiting date.

Harry sent up a silent plea that Draco was feeling understanding tonight, wheeling around and following his best friend up the stairs. Hopefully whatever had just happened could be explained quickly, and he could still join Draco in the Room of Requirement before the blond got too angry and left.

“Well?” Harry asked, watching Ron pace their dorm angrily.

“A schedule,” Ron said through gritted teeth.

Harry frowned. “What?”

“A schedule. Hermione proposed a bloody dating schedule for Lavender, and she agreed. She agreed!”

Harry failed to see how this was worse than the usual Friday night ritual the not-quite-couple had started over the last month, but wisely kept his observations to himself, letting Ron have free reign to rant.

“A different date every day until she either runs out of blokes or decides to stop,” Ron continued, his face, which had paled during his conversation with Hermione, turning an alarming shade of red.

“That’s not so bad,” Harry offered, laughing weakly when Ron turned to glare at him. “Well, it’s not. How many blokes are there at Hogwarts fit enough to have a chance at Lavender? Not many.”

Ron growled, and Harry winced.

“I just meant it should be over soon is all, mate,” Harry said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when the murderous look on Ron’s face dissipated. “Isn’t it better to speed things along if Lavender’s intent on dating every available guy she can? I mean, that would take a lot of Friday nights.”

Ron nodded reluctantly. He and Lavender were on the road to exclusivity, he was sure of it. She just had this fanciful notion that she needed to date as many guys as possible to make the most of her final year of school, and falling into somewhat-serious relationship with Ron hadn’t been part of her plans.

“How’s she setting up the schedule?” 

Ron paused, his brow wrinkling. “Hermione is taking care of it. All interested blokes are to apply to her, and she’ll get them on the schedule.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at his pouting friend.

“You’d best get down there then, before all the good spots are filled,” he said, suppressing a grin when Ron’s eyes lit up.

“You hadn’t planned to take your turn, had you?” Harry asked, reading Ron’s face easily.

“No, but it’s a damn good idea,” Ron muttered, heading back downstairs.

Harry looked at his watch again. Half-past. If he hurried, he could probably still catch Draco. He was confident his lateness would be forgiven; after all, he had a very juicy piece of gossip to share.

***

_ Monday: 7:30 p.m., Zacharias Smith _

Lavender ran a brush through her hair, smiling when her reflection winked at her. She had no particular interest in the Hufflepuff she was seeing tonight, but he’d asked to be on the list, and she thought it only fair to humor him. Besides, she’d heard he was dating Lisa Turpin, anyway.

She flounced down the stairs, prepared to launch into a defensive rant when she saw Ron. Surprisingly, though, the only people waiting for her in the common room were Harry, Draco and Hermione. The witch had a clipboard in her hands, apparently ready to check Zacharias off the list when he arrived. Lavender couldn’t help but giggle at the scary efficiency Hermione brought to the project. 

“Ron agreed not to interfere,” Hermione said without looking up. Lavender could see Draco snicker, probably at the almost preternatural way Hermione could predict others’ reactions. An interesting trait from someone who scorned Divination as much as she did.

“Excellent,” Lavender said, skipping toward the door. It was almost 7:30 on the dot; hopefully Zacharias would be on time. The sooner the date started the sooner it was over. She had a pile of homework tonight.

***

_ Tuesday: 6:45 p.m., Terry Boot _

Lavender didn’t even bother touching up her makeup after her last class, heading straight to the Great Hall instead. She was meeting Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw she hardly knew, and she couldn’t make herself care about her appearance.

Hermione stood outside the large oak doors, clipboard in hand again. She saw the witch scribbling something furiously on the parchment.

“Alright, Hermione?”

Hermione looked up, her expression pinched.

“Everything is most certainly  _ not _ alright. Boot had the audacity to ask to change his timeslot. Apparently, the house-elves are serving garlic bread tonight and he didn’t want to take the chance of your garlic breath ruining his goodnight kiss.”

Lavender choked, her eyes widening in alarm. She had no intention of repeating last night’s debacle, when Zacharias had to be forcefully removed from the Gryffindor common room after he mistook her friendly peck on the cheek for an invitation into her pants.

“I told him it was not possible, and that his choices were to proceed with the date or forfeit his spot,” Hermione continued, still scribbling. “He chose to forfeit.”

Lavender breathed a sigh of relief, following Hermione into the Great Hall and heading toward the Gryffindor table. She’d never been overly fond of garlic bread, but she promised herself she’d have two helpings tonight in gratitude.

***

_ Wednesday: 1:15 p.m., Stephen Cornfoot _

Lavender followed the Ravenclaw out through the Entrance Hall and down the cold stone stairs. She had to hurry to keep up with his brisk pace, but Hermione had warned her this date would be rushed, since Stephen was in her Arithmancy class, which started at 2 p.m. It was fine with Lavender, who had no particular interest in the average-looking Ravenclaw.  _ It’s such a shame that most of the available older blokes seemed to be from that House _ , she thought absently. Ravenclaws were known for their big brains and not much else.

She nearly ran into him when he came to an abrupt stop under a large tree near the lake. It was the beginning of April, but spring came late in Scotland. The bare branches held only the barest hint of buds, and the ground was still brown and hard.

Without a word, Stephen waved his wand in a complicated pattern. Suddenly, it felt a good twenty degrees warmer. Lavender rubbed her chilly fingertips together, grateful for the warmth.  _ A Warming Charm, _ she thought, suitably impressed. It was easy enough to manage a personal one, but heating an entire area, outside, no less, was a much harder feat.

Lavender’s lips quirked as Stephen Transfigured a blade of dead grass into a soft brown blanket, smoothing it over the ground and inviting her to sit.  _ This must be a Ravenclaw’s idea of romance _ , she thought with a giggle, taking the small basket he offered her. 

She sat it on the blanket, not at all surprised when Stephen drew his wand again to enlarge the basket, ending the Charm with a nonverbal spell. She was delighted to find a great assortment of cold sandwiches and salads inside, lighter fare than was usually offered in the Great Hall at mealtimes. 

“Thank you,” she said shyly, his kindness forcing her to re-evaluate his chances at a second date.

***

_ Wednesday: 7:30 p.m., Theo Nott _

Lavender was sitting on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, chatting with Ginny and Dean as she waited for her latest date. She hadn’t even bothered asking who it was with, knowing Hermione was handling all of the details. The girl even had a system in place to send thank-you notes after, and a ranking system to help Lavender decide whether or not a second date was warranted.

She didn’t even look up when Theo strode into the room, sitting next to Hermione near the fire and starting an intense whispered conversation. They were by no means exclusive, but it seemed to be heading that way, and no one was surprised to see the Slytherin there at all hours of the day and night.

She jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her arm, frowning in confusion when Theo offered her a dim smile, holding his hand out to help her up.

“Theo?”

The Slytherin cleared his throat, shooting Hermione a dirty look over Lavender’s shoulder.

“I’m your date for tonight, Lavender,” he said, his tone stiff and formal.

“What –”

He didn’t give her a chance to question it, pulling her toward the portrait hole. Once they were outside, he offered to escort her anywhere she’d like to go in the castle, making it clear he was there under duress and had no intention of actually carrying out the date. It had been Hermione’s idea, since she was worried he was getting more serious about their casual relationship than she was comfortable with.

“Oh, Theo,” Lavender said, patting him on the shoulder. 

They ended up in the kitchens, eating ice cream and talking about Hermione and Ron for hours. Neither noticed Hermione’s livid face when Theo finally walked Lavender back to the common room after midnight.

***

_ Thursday, 7 p.m., Justin Finch-Fletchley  _

“Isn’t he gay?”

Hermione shrugged, her lips set in a grim line as she scribbled on her now ever-present clipboard.

“Won’t that be, I don’t know, awkward?”

Hermione sniffed, looking away. She’d been cold and distant ever since Lavender’s date the night before, and the blonde witch had a good idea why.

“I wouldn’t think  _ awkward _ would be a problem for you,” Hermione snapped, her eyes returning to her clipboard.

Lavender laughed, drawing a scathing look from the brown-haired witch.

“Listen, Hermione, it’s not like that,” she said, her lips twitching as she saw Hermione’s hands tighten on the clipboard. “We spent the evening in the kitchens, talking about you. He was so upset you made him do this. He just wants to be with you.”

Hermione studied the parchment in front of her, fighting a smile.

***

_ Friday, 8 p.m., Anthony Goldstein _

“I heard you had a date with that Hufflepoof last night,” the tall Ravenclaw scoffed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I don’t know why you wasted your time. Everyone knows he’s as queer as a three-sided Sickle.”

Lavender turned, heading back up her dormitory stairs. Her “date” last night with Justin had been the most fun she’d had in ages. They’d spent the entire time hiding behind a suit of armor on the third floor and casting surreptitious Styling Charms on anyone unlucky enough to walk by. Three of Justin’s fellow Hufflepuffs spent the evening sporting Slytherin green hair, while an unsuspecting Ravenclaw ended up with a temporary Mohawk.

He’d told her all about his boyfriend, a sixth year Hufflepuff named Wayne Hopkins. He’d gone out with her only to help quell the rumors about their relationship, since Wayne’s parents were pure-bloods who didn’t approve of his sexuality. 

Hermione glared at the pompous Ravenclaw, who was still spouting nonsense about Justin, completely oblivious to Lavender’s departure. She shook her head, scribbling furiously while she escorted the blustering boy out of the portrait hole.

***

_ Saturday, 2 p.m., Greg Goyle _

Lavender waited nervously inside the Three Broomsticks, her eyes darting toward the door every time it opened. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and she was sitting apart from the rest of the students, nervously awaiting the arrival of today’s date.

She’d been shocked when Hermione told her it was Goyle, feeling both flattered and more than a little repulsed. Aside from Anthony, who’d turned out to be a bigoted idiot, she hadn’t turned down a date yet, and she wasn’t going to let her prejudice against Slytherin weigh against him. 

She narrowed her eyes when Draco and Harry dashed through the door, heading straight for her table. They were breathless and flushed, both of them windblown and a little sweaty.

“Sorry, we had to run,” Harry panted, squirming out of his light cloak and pushing up the sleeves of his Muggle jumper.

Lavender blushed, not wanting to think about what they could have been doing that would have delayed their departure from the castle so long. Most of the students had been milling around Hogsmeade for hours already. No doubt they’d taken advantage of one of their empty dorms.

“Goyle?”

Draco laughed, slinging an arm around Lavender’s shoulders as he motioned to Madam Rosmerta to bring a pitcher of Butterbeer to the table.

“We thought you’d be ready for a break by now,” he said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. “Greg agreed to sign up to be our cover. There’s no way Hermione would have put us on the list.”

Lavender relaxed into Draco’s loose embrace, laughing easily.

“You never know,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I had the  _ most _ enlightening date the other night with Justin, who told me you two have discovered some of his favorite hiding spots for covert meetings. He told me the most  _ delicious _ story about catching you in a certain broom closet on the fourth floor.”

Draco grinned, rolling his eyes as Harry blushed crimson. 

“He was most put out,” Lavender continued. “Apparently it was one of his favorite places. He said it’s well suited for –” She broke off, winking conspiratorially at Draco. “– well, I don’t suppose I have to tell  _ you _ what it’s well-suited for, considering Justin said you had already figured it out quite brilliantly on your own.”

***

After spending an entertaining afternoon with Harry and Draco, Lavender returned to the castle refreshed. They’d been right – this back-to-back dating was exhausting.

“Can we take a bit of a break?” she asked Hermione, who was sprawled across her bed making notes on the ubiquitous clipboard again. They often spent evenings like this in the girl’s dorm, even though Hermione had her own room.

Hermione looked up, considering Lavender’s request.

“I don’t see why not,” she said, consulting her list again. “You have five suitors left. We could spread them out.”

Lavender sighed, nodding. She nudged Hermione over, making enough room for her to lie back on the four-poster as well.

***

_ Wednesday, 8 p.m., Michael Corner _

Lavender didn’t know much about Michael other than that he was a year behind her class and was in Ravenclaw. Ginny had dated him briefly years ago, but she’d offered no insights as to how tonight’s date might go. 

He’d told her to dress warmly, so she’d been careful to bundle up. She felt a bit ridiculous sitting outside the common room in so many layers, but she hated being cold, so she’d taken his advice. He rounded the corner at exactly 8 p.m., carrying what looked like a Muggle cooler and several thick blankets.

“Good evening, Lavender,” he said, bowing formally to greet her. It should have looked silly, given the burden he was carrying, but instead he looked like a perfect gentleman.

“Good to see you, Michael. Care to clue me in as to where we’re going all kitted out like Eskimos?”

Michael gave her small smile, turning around and indicating she should follow him.

“Actually, Eskimo is an outdated term. They are more accurately termed Inuit,” he said, walking along briskly. ”You’re probably thinking of the people indigenous to Alaska, in the United States. They’re known as the Inupiat.”

Lavender suppressed an eye roll, clamping down on a laugh that she was sure the serious Ravenclaw would consider inappropriate. 

“We’re headed up to the Astronomy Tower,” he said, and Lavender was once again grateful he was leading and couldn’t see her shocked expression. The Astronomy Tower?

“Michael –” she started, hoping to disavow him of any preconceived notions he might have about her. She was well aware that rumors were flying all over school about her sudden interest in dating, and not all of them were accurate – or flattering.

“We’re lucky it’s a clear night,” he continued, carrying on as though he hadn’t heard her. He probably hadn’t; his ears were tucked under a heavy woolen cap in Ravenclaw colors. “We should be able to see many of the constellations that usually remain hidden this time of year.”

Lavender relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.  _ Of course _ , she thought, hurrying to keep pace with his long-legged strides.  _ What was I thinking? He’s a Ravenclaw. Like they’d know the Astronomy Tower was used for anything other than educational purposes. _ She laughed, drawing her cloak around herself as they stepped into the frigid turret.  _ A night of star gazing? How romantic. _

***

It was nearly 2 a.m. when Lavender finally tromped back into the Gryffindor common room. She shook Hermione awake, glad the girl had stayed up to wait for her. 

“Where on earth have you been?” Hermione mumbled, blinking owlishly.

“The Astronomy Tower,” Lavender muttered, dropping onto the sofa next to her friend.

“The Astronomy Tower?” Hermione sputtered, coming fully awake. This was going to kill Ron. They’d all agreed to humor Lavender in her dating wishes, knowing full well that she only really wanted to be with him. But if she’d spent all hours up there with Michael –

“Star gazing.” Lavender said flatly.

“A night of star gazing?” Hermione said, her anger turning to envy. “How romantic.”

Lavender groaned, leaning heavily against the sofa, her arm flung over her tired eyes to block out the flickering light of the fire.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she asked with a humorless laugh. “He had a star chart, Hermione. A star chart. And he wouldn’t let us leave until he’d found them all.  _ All _ .”

Hermione giggled, stretching and climbing to her feet. She held a hand out for her tired friend, pulling Lavender up as well.

“He used your date to do his homework? That’s a bit much, even for a Ravenclaw.”

Lavender shook her head, groaning. 

“No, that’s the worst of it. He doesn’t even  _ take _ Astronomy. This was his idea of  _ fun _ .”

***

_ Saturday, 11 a.m., Luna Lovegood _

“You can’t be serious?”

Luna nodded, her blonde hair rippling over her shoulders at the motion. She was standing outside the Great Hall, picking Lavender up for their early afternoon date.

“I’ve received special permission from the Headmistress to take you to London,” Luna said, a placid smile on her face at Lavender’s shocked reaction.

“London?” Lavender repeated, the shocked incredulity on her face morphing into what could more aptly be described as cool calculation. 

“Yes,” Luna said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Are you gay?” Lavender asked, squinting at the Ravenclaw in front of her. “Bi?”

“Definitely not,” Luna answered, her blue eyes studying Lavender closely.

Lavender gaped at the girl in front of her. What was she doing? Knowing Luna, there had to be some sort of angle here, and Lavender wasn’t sure she’d like it when she finally made her way to the bottom of it.

“So this date?”

Luna laughed, smiling dreamily.

“Blibbering Humdingers are attracted to natural blonde hair,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “It’s best to work in pairs, since it’s too much for them to resist. But the only other person I know with hair as blonde as mine, other than you, is Draco.”

Lavender paused a moment, clenching her jaw to hold back a torrent of abuse. That tack never worked with Luna.

“And let me guess, these Blubbering Hamburgers live in London?”

Luna nodded, pulling an old shoe out of her coat pocket. Lavender assumed it must be their Portkey to London, though knowing Luna, it could just be an accessory.

“And why didn’t you ask Draco, instead of setting up this date with me?”

Luna laughed, her eyes sharpening for a moment before losing their focus again.

“Oh, Draco made it very clear he’s not interested in helping me with any other experiments,” Luna said vaguely.

Lavender narrowed her eyes, taking Luna’s statement apart mentally. Draco didn’t seem the type to willingly go along with any of Luna’s “experiments”, so it must have been something she tricked him into doing. Her lips curved into a smirk when she remembered an offhand comment Harry had made a few weeks ago about spending his spring hols camping in Sweden. It had been one of the only times she’d ever seen Draco blush.

“Are we going, then?” Lavender asked, striding forward to grip the boot. She wasn’t going to miss an outing to London, even if she had to put up with Luna Lovegood to get there.

***

_ Tuesday, 6 p.m., Kevin Entwhistle _

“Tell him I’m busy, that I’m buried in homework, that my favorite band is on the wireless. Hell, tell him I’m covered in pustules and extremely contagious. I don’t care. I’m not going.”

Hermione growled in frustration, her hand clenched into a fist around her quill.

“He’s on the list –”

Lavender whirled around, fixing Hermione with a glare so intense the brown-haired witch actually took a step back.

“Hermione. My last two dates with Ravenclaws involved boring me to tears over constellations and actually having to hex –hex! – Luna to get her to stop yanking out bits of my hair. I’m quite fond of my hair, you know,” Lavender sniffed, her frown growing even deeper. “I will not go out with another Ravenclaw.”

“But –”

“I. Will. Not. Date. Another. Ravenclaw.”

Hermione sighed in defeat, her quill scratching against the parchment as she marked out the latest suitor.

“I’ll just go deliver the bad news, then.”

Lavender nodded, her arms firmly crossed.

“You do that.”

***

_ Friday, 9 p.m., Evan Harper _

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Harry asked, his legs dangling off the edge of Draco’s bed as he watched the Slytherin shrug into a silk shirt.

“Harper is a Housemate,” he said simply, running his hands through his hair.

“But she’ll be safe –”

Draco snorted. “As if I’d let anything happen to her.”

Harry sighed, looking at his feet.

“Maybe I should stay –”

“Not a chance,” Draco said, pulling Harry up off the bed and pushing him toward the open door. The party started in twenty minutes, and he didn’t want Harry anywhere near the dungeons when Evan showed up with Lavender.

“Did Pansy invite Nev –”

“No,” Draco huffed, propelling Harry toward the common room door. “No Gryffindorks allowed, aside from the lovely Ms. Brown. Harper’s rules.”

Harry frowned, letting himself be pushed through the door. He turned and glared at Draco, who was now lounging against the opening, looking extremely tousled and sexy. Harry bit his lip, knowing the Slytherin couldn’t resist him when he pouted.

“But –”

“ _ No _ .”

***

_ Saturday, 8 a.m., Ron Weasley _

Lavender groaned pitifully as the room suddenly filled with light. Her head was pounding, and her mouth felt disgusting.

“G’way,” she muttered, pulling her pillow over her head and burrowing deeper into her blankets.

“ _ Someone _ had a good time last night,” Hermione teased, her voice grating over Lavender’s tender head like knives.

“Too early,” Lavender managed, swallowing hard when a wave of nausea overtook her. What exactly  _ had _ she done last night?

“Too bad,” Hermione answered, pulling the covers back and slipping a vial of lurid purple potion into Lavender’s limp hand. “You have a date this morning. Draco was kind enough to supply that –” Hermione nodded toward the Hangover Potion Lavender was gamely trying to swallow. “– so you’d have a fighting chance of actually making it through it.”

Lavender grimaced at the taste of the potion, her eyes slipping closed as the room seemed to whirl around her. She’d taken the potion a few times before, but she was never prepared for the sickening feeling it caused as it worked.

“Is he up as well?”

Hermione laughed, throwing a pair of clean silk pajamas on Lavender’s bed. The blonde hadn’t made it out of her clothes the night before, and they were decidedly worse for the wear.

“Not likely,” she said, helping steady Lavender as the other girl stood. “You two didn’t get back here until nearly 3 a.m. It’s just before eight now, so I’d guess he’s still fast asleep in Harry’s bed.”

Lavender blinked, looking around her own dorm conspicuously empty dorm as she changed. She didn’t even realize the clothes Hermione had chosen for her were pajamas, since she was so confused.

“Where is everyone?”

Hermione grinned, her eyes sparkling.

“They’ve all cleared out for your date,” she said, arching her eyebrows knowingly.

“My date?” Lavender echoed, looking down for the first time and realizing she was in pajamas. “But –”

She was interrupted by a brisk knock against the door. Hermione hustled her back into bed, tucking her in snuggly.

“Come in!”

Lavender’s eyes widened in surprise when Ron ducked his head around the door, Levitating a tray of breakfast foods in front of him. A small vase held a single rose, and she could smell the fragrant steam from her favorite herbal tea blend as he came nearer, a cute polka dot pot perched precariously on the edge of the over-laden tray.

“Good morning,” he said, carefully placing the tray over her lap. He picked up a linen napkin, gently tucking it into the top of her silk pajamas before pouring her a cup of tea, adding just the right amount of sugar.

“What –”

“Breakfast in bed,” Hermione said, smiling at the cute picture they made. 

“Draco told me Slytherin was throwing a party for you, and I figured you might fancy a lazy day to recover,” Ron said, his voice even. There was no trace of jealousy in his expression, just concern about how she was feeling. “No one throws a party like Slytherins.”

“The stairs –”

Hermione covered her grin with her hand, backing out of the room. Neither of them noticed when she shut the door behind her.

“Er, I flew,” he said, blushing slightly. “Broomstick.”

Lavender laughed, taking a bite of pain au chocolat – her favorite pastry – before running a hand over Ron’s jaw.

“It’s wonderful,” she murmured, her chest warming at the thought of the trouble he’d gone to. He’d even managed to bring her favorite tea and pastry. None of her other dates had shown her that much consideration. None of her other dates had made her feel even remotely like this. “You’re wonderful.”

Ron laughed, the tension flowing out of him at her words.

“Too right, I am,” he answered cheekily, earning himself a swat on the thigh. His expression grew more serious. “Last date?”

Lavender considered his question, shaking her head after a moment. She could almost feel his disappointment.

“Not by a long shot,” she said, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “You’ve got lots more dates ahead of you, Ron Weasley. Don’t think you’re getting off that easily.”


	10. Hannah focuses on practicing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Warning for slight het. It blends with Hermione’s chapter, which will be next.

***

_ “I, Hannah Abbott, resolve to practice Transfiguration in the New Year, even though I’m not in the class.” _

***

“I-I can’t.”

Blaise clenched his jaw, reigning in his frustration. He and Hannah had been together for months. They’d even slipped into exclusive dating – something he’d  _ never _ done before – without him realizing it. Somehow the Hufflepuff had managed to do what dozens of Slytherins and Ravenclaws had failed to do: capture his interest entirely.

Still, her Hufflepuff tendencies drove him spare on many occasions, this being one of them.

“ _ Hannah _ ,” he said, his voice dripping with thinly veiled frustration. “Just do it. I’m begging you. We’ve been talking about this for  _ weeks _ , maybe even  _ months. _ I know it’s scary, but I won’t be able to stand it if you don’t do it soon. For me, Hannie?  _ Please. _ ”

Hannah sat back against Blaise’s headboard, her lips swollen from their latest encounter. She knew he was right – she’d been hovering on the brink of this for a long time. She was more thoroughly prepared for this than she’d ever been for anything in her life; she’d done all the research, she’d practiced in front of the mirror and, on several occasions when she was feeling particularly brave, in front of Blaise. But still.  _ It’s such a big step _ , she thought, her heart racing as Blaise crawled across the bed, the desperation clear in his gorgeous eyes.

“Soon,” she capitulated, sighing in relief when Blaise seemed satisfied with her answer. She opened her arms, grinning when he closed the distance between them and recaptured her mouth. Hannah pulled away, her newly acquired Slytherin smirk firmly in place as she looked down into Blaise’s heavily lidded eyes, her free hand ghosting over his trouser-clad erection. “Isn’t this more fun?”

***

Draco sat next to Blaise, knocking his sprawled legs aside so there was room for both of them on the small sofa. They didn’t get much time to themselves any more, not since they’d started dating people in different Houses, so they took advantage of the rare times they were both in the Slytherin common room.

“So, Hannah still holding out?” Draco drawled, glaring at Blaise when the other boy propped his feet in his lap.

“Yes,” Blaise muttered, closing his eyes wearily.

“Want me to talk to her? Or have Harry do it?” Draco offered, taking pity on his exhausted friend. “I mean, we can tell her how fabulous it will be.”

Blaise groaned, his eyes still squeezed shut. Between studying for N.E.W.T.s and distracting Hannah from her nerves, he’d hardly gotten any sleep at all in the last two weeks.

“You know we’re both on board, right?” Draco continued, resting a reassuring hand on Blaise’s foot and giving it a squeeze. “It’ll be brilliant. We could even be there if –”

“No,” Blaise said, sighing as he heaved himself up and moved his feet to the ground. He had a study session with Theo and Hermione in twenty minutes – if Hannah didn’t ambush him in the corridor again, pulling him into a dusty alcove to ‘take your mind off the other thing’. “She’s nervous enough without an audience.”

Blaise laughed weakly, rummaging around in his bag to make sure he had everything he needed. “At this point, I’m not even sure she’s comfortable with having  _ me _ there when she does it.”

***

“She’s just scared,” Hermione said, gesturing absently with her quill. “It’s perfectly normal. I can see how the situation would be very intimidating for someone as shy as Hannah.”

Theo grinned, thinking back to the last time he’d seen Hannah in the library. He knew Hermione picked up on his thought, since she blushed slightly.

“You just have to give her some time, let her do it on her on schedule.”

Blaise shook his head, flipping through his Transfiguration textbook with more force than necessary.

“I’ve tried to do that,” he said, looking up at the couple in front of him. “I’ve given her all the time I can. But the end of term is almost here, and if she doesn’t do it soon it will be too late.”

Hermione made a sympathetic noise, nodding her head. Blaise was right. N.E.W.T.s started next month. They were only a few weeks away from the end of school.

“Have you thought about giving her an incentive?” Theo asked, squinting at a diagram of a complicated Transfiguration in the text. “You know, a reward if she does it?”

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. “Doing it should be its own reward,” she said, pausing as she thought about it.

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off, a manic grin overtaking her face. Theo felt a shiver of unease at her expression. This new, impulsive side of Hermione was great fun most of the time, but the unholy light that lit her eyes made Theo sure her latest idea wasn’t going to be as tame as a blow job in the library.

“I’ve got it!” she cried, jumping up. She gathered her books, stuffing them haphazardly into her satchel. “If this isn’t incentive enough, nothing will be. Let me talk to her this afternoon, and I guarantee she’ll do it tomorrow morning.”

Blaise looked baffled, staring after Hermione’s quickly retreating form as she scurried out of the library. He looked back at Theo, who had his eyes closed and was wearing an expression that didn’t look comforting in the least.

“Do I –”

Theo shook his head. He was pretty sure he knew  _ exactly _ what she was going to offer Hannah, and he knew Blaise wouldn’t handle the news well. Theo wasn’t thrilled about it himself. Hell, he’d been trying to talk her out of it for days, but she just wouldn’t listen. How she’d even broached the subject with Draco he’d never know, but he had noticed the two of them having several whispered, furtive conversations lately. He just hoped Harry wouldn’t be furious when he found out, especially since the sordid affair now apparently included Hannah.

***

“Today?” Blaise asked, blinking blearily as Hannah joined him at the Slytherin table for breakfast.

“We both have a free period after first period. Let’s do it then,” Hannah said, her eyes almost glowing as she looked across the Great Hall to share a conspiratorial wink with Hermione before she hopped up and almost skipped out of the room.

Blaise saw Theo arch an eyebrow at his girlfriend, who was currently whispering with Draco. The blond Slytherin had joined the Gryffindors at their table for the morning meal. Sensing his gaze, she looked up, giving him a grin and an exaggerated shrug.

“Do you still think –”

Theo shook his head, holding his hand up to stop Blaise’s question, just like he had the day before.

“Trust me,” he muttered, stabbing a forkful of eggs. “You don’t want to know.”

***

“– quite a good idea, Miss Abbott,” McGonagall said, inclining her head toward the trembling Hufflepuff. This certainly hadn’t been what she expected when the shy girl had requested an appointment with her immediately after first period.

Blaise squeezed Hannah’s hand, both relieved and proud she’d managed to get through her entire presentation without fumbling or passing out. All of that practice had really paid off.

“Mr. Zabini, I’m unclear as to your role in all this –”

Hannah cleared her throat, smiling at Blaise when the Headmistress paused and motioned for her to speak.

“He’s been tutoring me in Transfiguration all term,” she said, her smile growing when the Headmistress’ eyes widened in surprise. “He also encouraged me to write up my plan and present it to you. I don’t think I would have gotten up the courage to do it without his prodding.“

Blaise fought back a snicker at exactly the type of “prodding” he’d given her, frequently, over the last few weeks to try to convince her to go to McGonagall. Oblivious to the undertones in the room, the Headmistress smiled at the young couple in front of her. Strange things had been happening since the start of term, this rare cooperation between a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff not the least of the puzzling turn of events. She was unspeakably proud of her older students, most of whom had miraculously put their rivalries aside in favor of House unity in the last few months. It still gave her a start to round a corner and see Potter and Malfoy kissing instead of fighting, but their relationship had definitely done quite a bit to smooth over past grudges between their traditionally volatile Houses, she had to admit.

“It will be a challenge to organize on such short notice, but I think it can be done. Moreover, I think it  _ should _ be done,” McGonagall said, her thin lips twisting into a smile. It truly was a fabulous idea, especially for this class, many of whom who had spent the last seven years focusing on Defense spells instead of learning practical magic. “I’ll speak with the Heads of all four Houses, and a letter will be sent out to all seventh years by the end of the week.”

Hannah beamed, her grip on Blaise’s hand growing almost painfully tight as she nodded.

“Truly, Miss Abbott, your proposal and the work you’ve put into it is a testament to your maturity and intellect,” the Headmistress said. “Fifty points to Hufflepuff for your innovation, and twenty-five to Slytherin for your encouragement and help, Mr. Zabini.”

McGonagall gathered up the scrolls Hannah had spread out on the table, careful to keep them in order. It was amazing that no one had come up with something like this before – an intensive summer course for seventh years, teaching them elementary household spells, adult wizarding traditions and rudimentary financial and business protocol, in addition to tutorials in core subjects for those who had fallen behind and didn’t have the basic skills they’d need to be successful. So many of the classes taught skills necessary for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s instead of everyday life, and the Headmistress knew that even some of the brightest students in the class couldn’t manage a decent Laundry Charm to save their lives. It was brilliant, and she was sure many of the students would want to participate. 

***

Hannah was nearly hyperventilating in relief as she made her way down the circular stairs outside the Headmistress’ office. Her presentation had gone over better than she’d ever dared hope. Suddenly, she felt a bit silly for being so nervous about sharing her idea with the stern professor. 

Blaise pressed her against the stone wall, his lips molding over hers in a hard kiss.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about!” he crowed, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her out of the stairwell when it finally stopped moving.

“You did,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him heatedly. 

One of the gargoyles cleared its throat, making Hannah blush crimson. Blaise reluctantly released her, keeping his arm around her waist as they set off toward their third period classes.

“So, shall we celebrate tonight?” he asked, his lips nibbling on her earlobe as he bent to whisper in her ear.

“Er, no,” she said, nearly tripping him when she abruptly stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. “Hermione and I have plans tonight.”

Blaise cocked his head, studying her closely. He held the silence for another beat, hoping to coax her into telling him what they were going to do, but she kept her lips firmly shut.

“Alright,” he said easily, pulling her closer as they started moving again. He trusted Theo; if his friend thought it was best to remain in the dark, he’d heed his advice. “We still have half an hour before next period. Celebrate now?”


	11. Hermione has more fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Chapter warnings for explicit slash, a bit of mild Dom/sub and voyeurism.

***

_ “I, Hermione Granger, resolve to have a bit more fun in the New Year.” _

***

“Shh!”

Harry stood stock still, his eyes wide as he looked around the seemingly empty room. He could have sworn he’d heard the faint noise of a shoe scraping over the stone floor.  _ Probably just being paranoid _ , he thought to himself, relaxing his muscles and letting Draco pull him further into the abandoned classroom.  _ Who else would be here at this hour? _

Draco swallowed, willing himself to keep his eyes on Harry and not let them wander the room to seek out the two girls he knew were somewhere nearby. The plan was for them to reveal themselves later, once Harry was too into things to call a halt to everything.

He watched as Harry warded the door, casting strong Locking and Silencing Spells on it to keep out unwanted intruders. Draco’s lips quirked as he thought about the  _ invited _ intruders who were watching their every move, hoping he hadn't completely misread Harry.

“So,” Harry said, unknotting his tie and leaving it slung over his shoulder, “I believe we had a deal?”

Draco’s throat went dry at the feral look on Harry’s face. He nodded, his fingers hastening to unknot his own silver and green tie as well. Knowing what Harry would be doing with said tie momentarily made it even more difficult to force his fingers to comply.

“Any fantasy, that was the prize, yes?” Harry continued, wrapping his own crimson and gold tie around his fist tightly.

Draco licked his lips, nodding.

Harry shook his head, rubbing his tie-wrapped fist down Draco’s jaw. “Say yes, Draco.”

“Yes.”

Harry’s lips curved at Draco’s easy compliance, his eyebrows rising at the flush that darkened the usually unflappable Slytherin’s pale cheeks.

Harry pointed to a broken desk in the corner, his eyes full of challenge.

“Transfigure it into a bed.”

Draco nodded, raising his wand and immediately transforming the dusty desk into a passable bed. It wasn’t terribly impressive, but the curving, wrought iron headboard left little to the imagination. It had two delicate swirls, about a shoulder-length apart, which would do quite nicely for what he assumed Harry wanted.

The dark-haired Gryffindor nodded his approval, holding his hand out for Draco’s tie. He looped both ties around his own neck loosely, his eyes locked on Draco’s as both boys began to slowly undress. Draco had lost last weekend’s Seeker’s game, and as a result, he was at Harry’s mercy tonight. The blond watched Harry pull his shirt off, hoping against hope that he’d correctly guessed which of the Gryffindor’s fantasies he’d want to enact tonight, and that Harry didn’t kill him when he realized how far he’d gone to comply.

At Harry’s nod, Draco shuffled over to the bed, sitting on the edge. He felt his chest constrict as Harry came nearer, his breathing becoming labored as a wave of arousal swept over him. The Gryffindor was on him in an instant, pinning him roughly to the mattress. Draco could feel Harry’s naked erection grind against his own, and he groaned out loud, the sound muffled by Harry’s mouth, which had crashed down over his almost violently.

It was rarely like this. Harry, a true Gryffindor at heart regardless of his sometimes Slytherin tendencies, was a romantic. He liked to take his time, worshiping every bit of Draco’s body before giving himself over to Draco to do the same. Tonight was all about possession and dominance, though, and it made Draco’s blood sing. He’d never imagined he would want to be submissive in bed, but he’d felt an unmistakable spike of arousal and interest when Harry first told him about this fantasy.

Draco let Harry take full control of the kiss, his lips already sore from the bruising force the other boy was using. Harry’s hands closed like vices around Draco’s wrists, trapping them above his head, and Draco shivered at the unintentional preview of what was to come.

Harry’s mouth left Draco’s without warning, his firm lips pressing against the thin skin over the blond’s collarbone. He licked and sucked, wetting the skin before nipping it gently with his teeth. Draco gasped and writhed underneath him, trying to bring more of his body into contact with Harry’s skin.

“Uh-uh,” Harry chided, pulling away so their bodies only touched where the dark-haired boy’s hands were holding Draco’s arms down. “You’ve always been a pushy bastard, haven’t you?”

Harry released him, pointing toward the elaborate headboard. “Get up there,” he said, his eyes darkening as he noticed Draco’s cock bob at the command. He felt a wave of relief sweep through him to see Draco was enjoying this bit of role playing as much as he was.

“Can I trust you not to move?” Harry asked, cocking his head as he stared at Draco’s beautifully flushed face.

“No,” Draco answered, another jolt of desire rippling through him when he saw the dangerous expression on Harry’s face.

“No?” Harry barked, fingering the ties looped around his neck absently. “At least you’re honest. I suppose I’ll have to tie you down, then.”

Draco swallowed, nodding. Sex with Harry was always fabulous, but this was beyond the pale. Draco didn’t know if it was this wonderfully sexy side of Harry that was making him feel this way or the knowledge that somewhere in the shadows they had an audience.

Draco shuddered when Harry lifted his hands to the headboard, the bite of the cool metal making it even more exciting. He couldn’t help but whimper as Harry bound his wrists to the bed with their school ties. The knots were loose enough to be comfortable, but still tight enough to keep his hands where Harry wanted them. 

_ Oh god, _ Draco thought, his stomach muscles contracting painfully as Harry licked his way over his abs. He wanted to let Harry continue –  _ Mother of Merlin, that mouth  _ – but he knew the Gryffindor would be even angrier with him if he didn’t come clean about their audience before things got too out of hand. He wanted to give Harry the chance to say no, even if it likely meant spending his night naked and tied to this bed alone as punishment.

“Harry,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed as Harry’s hot tongue ghosted over his hip and drew maddening little circles as it came closer and closer to his aching erection.

“ _ Harry _ ,” he said again, louder this time. If Harry actually got his lips around Draco’s leaking cock, the blond knew he wouldn’t have the willpower to protest.

Harry’s tongue stopped its assault, his dark head rising at the desperation in Draco’s voice. It hadn’t sounded like passion, but more like apprehension? Fear? Harry sat up quickly, worried he’d bound Draco’s wrists too tightly or scared him with his roughness.

“Harry,” Draco said again, his voice trembling slightly. This had sounded like such a good idea when he and Hermione had talked about it, but now – now he wasn’t so sure.

“Draco?”

The blond took a fortifying breath, deciding that being direct was the best approach.

“In your fantasy, you wanted an audience,” he said quickly, his eyes darting around the room. He saw nothing but empty shadows, but he knew one of them housed Hermione and Hannah. He figured Hermione, at least, was smart enough to stay hidden until he’d finished his confession.

“Er, yes,” Harry said, taken aback by Draco’s statement. “But this is fine, it’s –”

Draco laughed a bit hysterically, suddenly feeling extremely exposed in his submissive pose on the bed. 

“Yes, well,” Draco babbled, swallowing hard. “I know we didn’t talk about this part, but I wanted to give you everything you wanted. For the fantasy, that is.”

Harry frowned, unable to keep up with Draco’s increasingly incoherent chatter.  _ He wants to do what I want? _ Harry wondered, his heart racing at the implication.  _ Did Draco – _ Harry couldn’t even finish the thought. He grabbed his wand from the bed, holding it in trembling fingers.

“ _ Accio _ invisibility cloak,” he whispered, part of him hoping nothing happened.

He and Draco both flinched when the silvery fabric shot across the room. A sheepish Hermione and terrified Hannah were revealed, standing a good distance away against one of the shadowy stone walls.

“Hi,” Hermione said, having the grace to blush just a bit. The old Hermione would have fallen all over herself with apologies, very likely through a torrent of tears, but this new, bolder Hermione simply stood her ground. 

“Hi,” Harry replied, his face heating as he covered himself with the first thing he could find. Hermione snickered as Harry’s lower half disappeared, literally, under the invisibility cloak.

“So,” Hermione started gamely, wrapping an arm around Hannah’s waist to stop the Hufflepuff from bolting from the room.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco hissed from the bed, wishing his hands were free so he could pull the cloak off Harry.  _ Honestly _ , he thought, scowling at the two Gryffindors (and one frightened Hufflepuff) in front of him _. I know all of them wanted to do this – why are they acting like such prudes now? _

“Harry, drop the cloak. You look like a Muggle magician’s trick gone wrong,” he snapped, gratified to see the boy immediately comply. “Hermione, stop stuttering all over yourself. Hannah –” he broke off, shaking his head at the pale-faced girl. “– get a grip.”

Hermione straightened her shoulders, maintaining her restrictive hold on Hannah. She raised her chin, looking Harry in the eye.

“Harry,” she said, her voice as calm as if she’d been watching him do homework with Draco in the common room, not preparing him for a rough fuck. “I’m sorry if our being here makes you uncomfortable, but Draco was under the impression it was something you’d like.”

She took a breath, her cheeks darkening a bit as she continued. “It’s something we’ve talked about a little bit as well. Remember?”

Harry flushed, nodding. He’d been more than a little drunk when he’d confessed that the thought of exhibitionism really turned him on. She hadn’t mentioned it afterward, but she’d clearly been thinking about it, he realized.

“If you’d like us to leave we’d be happy to,” Hermione said, doing an admirable job of keeping her eyes level with Harry’s instead of letting them wander over his naked body. “Of course, I’d  _ prefer _ to stay, and I think Hannah would, too, but it’s up to you.”

Draco made a huffy sound from the bed, making Hermione smile. 

“And Draco, of course, but I already know his thoughts on the matter.”

Harry stared at her, stunned. She was one of his best friends, and he’d honestly never thought of her in a sexual way. Hell, he  _ still _ didn’t think of her in a sexual way, even now. But the thought of her – or anyone, really – watching him pound into Draco made his flagging erection return in full force. He’d been mortified about the incident in the hospital wing, but that was more because the prat who’d overheard them spread it all over school. The fact that they’d been overheard in itself was arousing.

“You really want to …,” he trailed off, motioning toward the bed vaguely. 

“Watch?” Hermione supplied, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling. “Oh, yes.”

Harry bit his lip, his heart pounding. “And you, Hannah?”

The Hufflepuff squeaked, her face going crimson at Harry’s question.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, unable to meet his gaze.

Draco heaved a sigh, fed up with the stilted conversation. He was getting cold, and his arms were going numb. 

“They’ve already taken a Wizard’s Oath not to reveal what they see in here to anyone,” Draco said, his tone a little sharper than he’d intended. “Not that they would, anyway. So what’s it going to be, Potter?”

Harry shut his eyes for a moment as though having an internal debate. Apparently depravity won out, since he raised his wand and Transfigured a stiff-backed chair into a comfortable sofa. It skittered along the floor, coming to rest a few feet in front of the girls.

“May as well be comfortable,” he murmured, still looking a bit unsure despite his bravado.

He climbed back on the bed, only half-believing this was happening. He fought the urge to look over his shoulder. Knowing they were there was a definite turn-on, but he still didn’t really want to  _ see _ them.

“Are you sure this is alright?” he whispered, his lips barely touching the shell of Draco’s ear.

Draco grinned. There was a lot about Slytherin House that Harry didn’t know, and Draco never intended to tell him. It wasn’t uncommon to stumble across several people having indiscriminant sex in the common room on any given Saturday night, and Draco had been involved more than once. Before Harry, of course.

“I’m more than fine with it,” he murmured, bucking his hips up so Harry could feel his erection.

Harry didn’t look convinced. “But being tied up –“

Draco rolled his eyes, tugging on his bonds. His stomach flipped at the way the movement made Harry’s pupils dilate. A slow grin spread across the Gryffindor’s face, and Draco’s cock hardened even more.

***

Hermione shivered, drawing her robes around herself tightly as she hurried through the corridor. Hannah was right beside her, eyes bright and face flushed. Hermione knew she probably looked the same, and the thought of what they’d just seen had her quickening her step as she made her way to the dungeons. 

“Sprout sucks,” Hermione muttered, stepping back as the blank stone wall began to rearrange itself into an opening. 

She sent Hannah an apologetic glance, but the Hufflepuff only shrugged. Even _ she  _ could understand why the Slytherins were angry with her Head of House; the professor had docked Slytherin 100 House points last week after a second year threw an immature Mandrake root at a Venus Flytrap. The resulting shriek had left half the class in the infirmary.

The two girls hurried into the green and silver common room. Theo and Blaise were playing a game of chess in front of the fire, apparently waiting up for them. Blaise still had no clue what they’d been up to, but he’d been more than a little intrigued when Theo had warned him Hannah was likely to come looking for him tonight.

Any questions he’d been planning to ask died on his lips at the look on Hannah’s face. Blaise jumped up, following her wordlessly as she headed toward his dorm. From the smirk on Theo’s face, he wouldn’t be coming up any time soon – he and Hermione usually took advantage of her private room – and he was fairly sure Draco wasn’t coming home tonight. That only left Greg, and it wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to look the other way, especially if they used Silencing Charms.

Theo stood slowly, grinning at Hermione’s flushed cheeks despite himself. He’d thought the whole plan was likely to go bollocks up, but it looked like he’d been wrong.  _ Something _ certainly had her worked up, and even though he didn’t approve of how she’d gotten in that state, he wasn’t going to waste it.

“Your room?”

Hermione grinned, quirking her eyebrow at him. He felt himself harden when her tongue darted out, wetting her lips.

“Want to have some fun?” she all but purred, her eyes twinkling. She was in the mood to be a bit naughty.

“Fun?” he echoed, his heart pounding when her fingers rose to her robes, unbuttoning them slowly. He looked around the mostly empty common room, his gaze returning to Hermione when he heard her robes hit the floor.

The two sixth-years in the corner paid them little notice, having grown used to such displays years ago. 

***

Harry nestled into Draco’s arms, pressing a lazy kiss to his naked chest. They were cuddled up in the Transfigured bed, and Harry was pleasantly drowsy. He’d decided he wasn’t comfortable having sex in front of Hermione and Hannah, but that didn’t stop him from instructing a still-bound Draco to give him a blow job. It had been enough to satisfy his exhibitionist urges. He rather thought it had been enough to give the two girls their money’s worth, so to speak, if their expressions when they left were anything to go by.

“Are you going to sleep?” Draco asked, his chest rumbling under Harry’s ear.

“Mmm,” Harry answered, burrowing even deeper into Draco’s warmth.

Draco waited a few more minutes, craning his neck as he looked down at the groggy boy on his chest. Harry couldn’t really be  _ sleeping _ , could he? Draco shifted, jostling Harry a bit. Nothing.  _ Typical Potter, _ he thought, sighing in frustration. His still-hard cock throbbed, an unnecessary reminder that he hadn’t gotten off yet.

“Harry,” he whined, sliding out from under the Gryffindor’s grip and scooting toward the side of the bed. Nothing. Draco growled in frustration. “Harry!”

He considered gathering up his clothes and leaving Harry there, hopefully to be discovered by Filch in the morning, but a new plan emerged when he noticed their discarded ties hanging off the edge of the mattress. Draco’s lips curved into a wicked smile as he bent to pick them up.

***

Harry woke slowly, feeling like his mind was fighting through layers of fog as he struggled toward consciousness. He tried to roll over, but something prevented him from moving. Green eyes shot open as he realized he had been restrained, the panic in them reducing only a fraction when he realized his captor also had his tongue up his arse. 

“Draco?” he muttered, blinking blearily as he tested the bonds. Even without his glasses, he could make out the stripes on the ties.

“I should hope so,” Draco answered, pulling away from his earlier task. He’d been able to flip Harry over and tie him to the bed without waking the Gryffindor. 

“What’re you doing?” 

Draco laughed, his hands cupping Harry’s arse cheeks again and gently pulling them apart. Harry shivered as he felt hot breath against his entrance moments before Draco’s tongue resumed the teasing strokes he’d used to wake him up.

“God, Draco,” Harry groaned, grinding back against Draco’s face.

“Mmm,” Draco hummed, knowing exactly what effect the vibrations against Harry’s tight hole would have on the dark-haired boy. 

Harry squirmed under Draco’s ministrations, gasping when his tongue disappeared, only to be replaced by two well-lubricated fingers.

“It wasn’t very nice of you to fall asleep,” Draco said, leaning forward so he could finger fuck Harry’s arse and whisper in his ear at the same time. 

Harry shivered again, pushing back against Draco’s fingers. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, not without getting Draco off first, but he was more than happy to take his punishment. 

“Sorry,” he panted, wiggling against the mattress to try to relieve the pressure in his now-aching cock. 

“Are you, now?” Draco murmured, twisting his fingers and making Harry cry out again. 

“Yes,” Harry answered, trying not to whimper as Draco’s fingers ran across his prostate again. 

Draco removed his fingers, sitting up to cast a Lubrication Spell on his erection. He leaned forward, rubbing the fleshy head of his cock against Harry’s loosened entrance in lazy circles.

“Please, Draco,” Harry hissed, trying to push back against Draco’s cock.

Draco hummed, letting the head of his cock breach Harry’s entrance. He stopped just as he passed the ring of muscle, trembling with the effort of not thrusting in to the hilt.

“You never even properly thanked me for arranging your fantasy,” Draco chided, his voice husky with need.

“Thank you,” Harry blurted, wriggling again to try to force Draco deeper inside.

“I expect better than that, Harry,” Draco teased, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting fully into Harry’s tight heat. Both boys groaned as Draco sheathed himself inside Harry, not stopping until his balls hit Harry’s arse.

“Merlin! Don’t stop!” Harry gasped, scrambling up as much as he could within his bonds to thrust back against Draco.

Happy to oblige, Draco thrust harder, his own breath coming in pants and gasps as he shot toward orgasm. He’d been hard for what seemed like ages, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this pace long.

Harry could have cried in relief when he felt Draco’s cool hand snake around him, closing around his neglected erection. He felt Draco stiffen behind him, moaning out his name as he came deep inside him. 

Draco’s hand continued to move along Harry’s shaft, swiftly bringing him to the edge despite the fact that he’d come not twenty minutes earlier.

“Ought to leave you like this,” Draco muttered, still draped over Harry’s sweaty back and buried deep inside him. He slid out, rolling to his side so he could see Harry’s face as the other boy came. Harry groaned, spurting his release over Draco’s hand. 

“Mmm,” Harry murmured, rolling away from the wet spot to spoon against Draco. They’d just have to hope the Locking Spell on the door held, because there was no way he could make it back to Gryffindor Tower tonight. “Thank you, Draco.”

Draco laughed, grabbing his wand to cast a quick Cleaning Charm over both of them before re-checking the wards on the door. By the time he let his wand fall back to the bed, Harry was already breathing deeply, fast asleep.

He pressed a fond kiss to Harry’s temple, pulling the duvet up around them so they didn’t get chilled in the night. 

“You’re hopeless, Potter,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around him and letting himself succumb to sleep as well.


	12. Susan prepares for N.E.W.T.S.

_ “I, Susan Bones, resolve to pass my N.E.W.T.s in the New Year.” _

_ *** _

“Good grief, would you just  _ stop?” _

Susan’s frantic mumbling abruptly broke off. Her mouth hung open in surprise, shocked that Hannah would ever raise her voice. 

“Yes, N.E.W.T.s start Monday, and  _ yes _ , we are meant to be studying,” Hannah continued, her expression stern. “But for Merlin’s sake, Susie, you need to relax!”

Susan shook her head vehemently, her long, plaited hair jerking at the motion. She’d set up a very strict revision schedule for the month leading into the N.E.W.T.s, and it included non-stop studying the day and night before the tests.

“You’ve already crammed everything in you can,” Hannah said, trying to reason with her slightly crazed friend. “Honestly, anything you do now you’ll just forget. You’ve revised really, really hard, Susan. It’s time to take a break.”

“No, I –”

“When was the last time you saw Seamus?”

Susan bit her lip, looking down at the flash cards Hermione had helped her make. They were color coded and cross-referenced between subjects, since there were quite a few multidisciplinary spells.

“Yesterday?” Hannah offered, knowing it wasn’t true. She’d talked to the poor Gryffindor at breakfast, when they’d decided an intervention was necessary. “Within the last few days, at least?”

Susan shook her head. She hadn’t spoken to her boyfriend – more than a hurried hello in the library or Great Hall – since Saturday. A full week ago.

“That settles it,” Hannah said, slamming her book shut and jumping up. Several other students looked up, wondering what the commotion was about. The Hufflepuff common room was generally a very peaceful, quiet place. 

She pointed her wand at Susan’s flash cards, Transfiguring them into a small steel box. Hermione told her the box was a Muggle thing used to lock away important things – a saver, Hannah thought she’d called it. No, a safe. That was it. A safe.

“ _ Hannah _ !” Most of the lower years craned their necks to see what had caused Susan’s anguished cry, while the older years simply scooted further from the commotion. Everyone knew that Hannah had changed since she started dating a Slytherin – she would  _ never _ have started an argument before Blaise.

“No, you’re coming with me,” Hannah said, lowering her voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s called a safe. I won’t end the spell until tomorrow morning. So you either come with me and have some fun or sit here and stare at it all night.”

Susan gaped at her friend, unsure who this assertive person in front of her was. Surely it wasn’t dear, sweet  _ Hannah.  _

“You don’t even  _ take _ Transfiguration,” she whispered, staring in horror at the box that used to be her carefully organized and annotated study aids.

“I don’t,” Hannah said, pride creeping into her voice. She’d worked hard to bring her Transfiguration skills up to par, and she knew the summer session that started in a few weeks would do her even more good. “I’ve been studying. We’ve all been studying. It’s time for a break.”

Susan nodded woodenly, giving in. Suddenly, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go find Seamus and cuddle up for a nap.

“Excellent. I’ve laid your clothes out for you on your bed already,” Hannah said, her tone businesslike. “Be ready to leave in twenty minutes. Seamus is meeting us in the dungeons.”

Susan’s tired eyes blinked open. “Dungeons?”

Hannah grinned, looking much more devious than any Hufflepuff had a right to. Susan had always been supportive of her friend’s relationship with Blaise, but now she was beginning to doubt it was a good idea. He’d obviously had a  _ terrible _ influence on her.

“The Slytherins always throw a N.E.W.T.s party on the Saturday before the tests start,” she said, throwing her bag over her shoulder and leading Susan up the stairs toward their dormitory. “Technically, all seventh years are invited, but Hufflepuffs hardly ever go. We, however,  _ are _ going.”

Susan had been to a Slytherin party before, with Seamus. They’d left after she’d seen Harry and Ron dancing on a table – it had been too wild for her. 

“I –”

“You have a very frustrated boyfriend who you haven’t properly snogged in weeks,” Hannah chided, steering Susan into their room. 

She’d picked a fairly modest outfit out, knowing her friend wasn’t quite up to the short skirts and tight leather trousers people usually wore to Slytherin parties. Hannah grinned as she remembered the skintight fishnet shirt Blaise had worn to the last Slytherin party a few weeks ago.  _ No one does sexy better than a Slytherin, _ she thought appreciatively, ducking into her own armoire to pull out the silk corset Draco had gotten her expressly for this party. He said he wanted to be sure Blaise had good reason to remember his last Hogwarts party, and Hannah was happy to oblige. Her shyness had practically disappeared after McGonagall made it known that she’d planned the summer session all the seventh years were so excited about. She’d never talked to so many people, or accepted so many compliments, in all her life.

“Eep!”

Hannah smirked, smoothing her hands down the Slytherin green corset. It had black lace trim, which matched her short leather skirt perfectly. Hermione had lent her a pair of to die for stilettos, which made her legs look miles long. They pinched a bit, but Hannah didn’t figure she’d be wearing them long enough to really hurt.

“Problem, Susie?”

She turned, smiling innocently at Susan, who had just changed into a pair of denims and a sweater set. The girl gaped at her, her eyes enormous as she looked at Hannah.

“Let’s go, then,” Hannah said, taking Susan’s silence for acceptance. “We’re already a little late.”

***

Hermione and Pansy met them at the door, casting appraising glances at their outfits. Susan had Seamus’ hand in a death grip, but the Irish wizard didn’t seem to mind. 

“Sorry, Susan,” Hermione said, twirling her wand in her hand. “You’re a bit under dressed.”

“But –”

Hannah shot her friend an apologetic glance, slipping past the two witches guarding the entrance and heading inside the already-hopping party to find her own boyfriend. She hadn’t known the Slytherins had implemented a dress code – suddenly Draco’s spontaneous gift made much more sense.

“Just a few small changes,” Pansy said sweetly, her lips turned up in a fake smile as she looked at Susan. “With your permission, of course.”

Susan’s eyes widened as Hermione leveled her wand at her, but she managed to keep her composure. Barely. She was meant to be  _ studying _ , not attending some smarmy party in the dungeons. Only the fact that Hermione, the most respected and intelligent witch in their year, was at the party stopped her from fleeing. If Hermione could take a night off, so could she.

“Alright,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a fortifying breath.

She heard Seamus whistle in approval at her new outfit, but she was too nervous to look at it herself. She could feel the cool air against her legs, so she knew Hermione had Transfigured her denims into a skirt, but she didn’t dare look down. Her top also seemed to be much tighter, and the sleeves ended somewhere on her forearm. 

“Excellent,” Pansy said, stepping aside to let them pass. “Do enjoy yourselves.”

***

Susan sipped her punch, managing to nurse the single cup for more than an hour. She didn’t know what was in it, but it was delicious and sweet, and from the way everyone else was throwing it back and acting crazy, it was likely also loaded with alcohol. She had her revision schedule to stick to tomorrow and had no intention of getting drunk like everyone else here.

It surprised her to see Draco and Hermione partying just as hard as everyone else. They were the two brightest minds in their year, and she’d always thought they had a healthy respect for the N.E.W.T.s. The same went for Theo and Blaise, though the darker wizard was nowhere to be found. Susan would have assumed he, at least, had his wits about him and was studying, but she hadn’t seen Hannah since they entered the party, either. It didn’t take a brilliant mind to guess where they were, especially given how tarted-up Hannah had been. Susan sniffed, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Did  _ no one _ else care how they did on their N.E.W.T.s?

“Dance?” 

She smiled at Seamus, shaking her head. She wasn’t much of a dancer. Besides, if she was dancing, she couldn’t run through the rules of Elemental Transfiguration or the most common ways to prepare stink sap for potions. She might not have her trusty flash cards, but Susan was determined not to let the evening be a total waste.

Susan felt bad when Seamus’ face fell. It was nearly enough to goad her onto the dance floor, but not quite. She reached over and twined her fingers through his, giving them an apologetic squeeze. She’d just about resolved to confess that she’d rather be studying her Arithmancy formulas than be at the party when Harry and Draco bounded up, pulling them both out of their seats.

“No wallflowers at a Slytherin party,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around Susan and pulling her out toward the writhing mass on the make-shift dance floor that had taken over the center of the common room.

“Even if they  _ are _ pretty,” Draco teased, batting his eyelashes at a mortified Seamus. The Gryffindor was too shocked to resist, allowing himself to be manhandled out into the masses as well, Draco’s hand still clamped around his wrist.

“She looked like she was about to bolt,” Draco muttered, leaning in to speak into Seamus’ ear. The music was so loud it was necessary, but the intimacy still made the Gryffindor blush. 

“She’s a very serious student,” Seamus replied, feeling the need to defend his girlfriend, even though he personally agreed – Susan needed to lighten up, even if it was just for tonight.

Draco laughed, maneuvering them around the dance floor until he found Harry. With surprising dexterity, Draco managed to wrap his arms around a struggling Seamus and force him into a dip. As soon as he righted the Irishman, he spun him around, gracefully exchanging partners with Harry.

“Hellebore,” Draco whispered in Susan’s ear, enjoying the look of complete confusion on her face before she cottoned on to what he was doing.

“Most commonly found in the Draught of Peace,” she answered, her face flushing when Draco spun her around and pulled her close again.

“Lacewing flies,” he prompted, pulling her out of the way when an overenthusiastic couple nearly knocked them flat.

“Er, Sleeping Draught,” she said, biting her lip. “No! Polyjuice Potion.”

“Right again,” he said, guiding them closer to the edge of the room. The music was a bit less deafening, and the crowd was definitely thinner.

“Aconite,” he threw out, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Susan let him spin her around again, starting to enjoy herself. It was actually fun to dance with Draco, she realized, especially away from the pressing crowd.

“That’s a trick,” she said primly, frowning up at him. “Aconite is not in any of the N.E.W.T.-level potions because it is highly poisonous and only used in Dark magic.”

Draco nodded, releasing his light grip on her waist as they arrived at the refreshment tables. “Also known as?”

“Monkshood and Wolfsbane,” she countered, nearly giggling with pleasure at being able to answer his questions.

“No more studying for tonight, Ms. Bones,” he said, bowing to her formally and pressing a gentle kiss to her hand before releasing it. “You’re clearly ready for your Potions N.E.W.T., and I expect you’re prepared for the rest of them as well.”

The flush on Susan’s face from the heat of the dance floor grew into a full-blown blush at Draco’s words. Had it been so obvious that she was running through spells and potions in her head?

She didn’t get the chance to question Draco, since the lights flickered ominously and the music suddenly stopped. There were groans of protest throughout the room, but they all stopped when a magically enhanced voice shouted out that a game of Truth or Dare was about to start.

“No,” Susan said, her eyes wide when Seamus suddenly materialized at her side and started to pull her toward the growing circle on the erstwhile dance floor.

She could see Hermione and Daphne Greengrass at the front of the room, wands waving. They never played this game in Hufflepuff – what fun was Truth or Dare when you had no secrets from your Housemates? – but she was familiar enough with it to realize the two witches had just cast a Truth Spell. That irked Susan even more; if you couldn’t trust the people you were playing with to tell the truth, why in Merlin’s name would you  _ want _ to play with them?

“Go on, then,” Draco said, nudging the couple forward. Lavender and Ron had left a spot open on the carpet for them, and Seamus started to guide Susan toward it.

“No,” she said again, a bit more forcefully this time. She and Seamus argued quietly about it for several minutes, finally garnering the attention of the rest of the room as their whispered conversation grew louder.

“Oh, for –” Hermione made her way over, her fixed her gaze on Susan. “Truth or Dare?”

“I’m not playing,” Susan said, still trying to shirk Seamus’ hold and get to the door. “Oh, fine. Truth.”

Hermione nodded, pleased the Hufflepuff had been so predictable. She’d be able to settle this once and for all.

“Alright. Have you studied enough to pass your N.E.W.T.s, Susan?”

Susan’s eyes went wide, her denial dying on her lips. The Truth Spell they were playing under wouldn’t let her utter the word ‘no’.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, shocked at the answer. She turned in Seamus’ arms, a grin splitting her face. “Yes! I have!”

Harry handed her a drink, inviting the couple back to the circle. This time, though, Susan went willingly. She ignored Hermione’s unladylike smirk, settling herself comfortably on Seamus’ lap. Perhaps Hannah was right, though luckily she wasn’t here to crow about it. Perhaps she  _ did _ deserve a little fun.


	13. Harry has no secrets

_ “I, Harry Potter, resolve to keep fewer secrets in the New Year.” _

***

“I swear to Merlin, if  _ one _ more person congratulates that git I’m going to lose it,” Ron hissed, earning himself a kick from Hermione and a glare from Neville. Only those sitting closest to him had heard his words, though the entire table could tell he was angry.

Hermione stared at him, her lips drawn into a thin line of disgust. Why did it matter who won the House Cup, anyway? Gryffindor had taken it more often than not during their tenure – it wasn’t like it had been the seventh years’ last chance. Like it had been for Slytherin.

When it became clear that no one else was going to speak up, the students resumed their normal morning chatter. Gossip and jokes flew up and down the long table as students tried to make the most of their last meal at Hogwarts before the beginning of summer hols. Even the seventh years who would be returning in just a few weeks for the intensive seminar seemed more talkative than usual, probably because they realized it was the last time they’d see many of the younger years.

No one even looked up when Ginny finally strode into the Great Hall, Dean trailing conspicuously behind her. Everyone knew neither of them had made it back to the dorm the night before, and much of the morning gossip had been speculation about where they’d spent the night.

“Congratulations, Draco,” Ginny said, her voice only slightly sour as she took her place across from the blond at the table, Dean settling in next to her. “Your House deserved the win.”

Most of the students at the table shifted their gazes toward Ron, who was practically vibrating with anger. The redhead clenched his fists, glaring at the Slytherin banners that now hung along the walls. 

“That’s bollocks! If Malfoy hadn’t cheated –”

“Cheated?” Draco sputtered, slamming his glass of pumpkin juice down on the table. “ _ Cheated _ ?”

Ron’s face reddened, but he met the Slytherin’s glare head-on.

“Yes, cheated,” he said, his blue eyes flashing. “Did you think I didn’t know about your resolution –”

“Ron,” Neville chided, his voice laced with censure. “You  _ know _ that’s not how it works.”

He turned to a still-bewildered Harry, shaking his head. He loved Harry – and Hermione, for that matter – dearly, but there were still so many things his Muggle-raised friends didn’t understand about the wizarding world. 

“ A resolution, if made within an hour of the old year turning into the new – that would be around midnight on New Year’s Eve,” Neville said, quirking a brow at Harry to make sure the other wizard was still following him, “– and made in a place with strong ambient magic, like Hogwarts, becomes a binding magical contract.”

_ A binding magical contract _ , Harry thought, his brow creasing as his frown deepened.  _ Which means Draco  _ had _ to beat me at Quidditch? _

“So Draco  _ had _ to beat me at Quidditch?”

Draco growled in frustration, his fists clenched as pushed his breakfast away and stalked off. He’d been taking crap from Harry’s Gryffindor friends since the Leaving Feast the night before, when Slytherin took the cup, barely edging out Gryffindor in House Points, but he never expected Harry to join in, too. Hermione pursed her lips, her brow furrowed as she contemplated Neville’s words, watching the angry blond throw open the doors to the Great Hall and storm outside, Pansy close on his heels.

“No, not at all,” Neville said sternly. “Draco beat you in that game because he had trained harder and was better prepared. That’s all the resolution did – it gave him the willpower to follow through on what needed to be done in order to accomplish it,” he said, and Harry flinched under the usually calm wizard’s glower. “You should apologize.”

Harry gaped at his friend. He never thought he’d see the day that Neville demanded he apologize to Draco Malfoy. Harry knew so many things had changed since New Years, and not just the relationships that had developed – he and Draco had been open about their relationship for months, Ron and Lavender were dating, Blaise and Hannah were inseparable, Seamus and Susan were no longer hiding their attraction and had actually started dating and Hermione, well, Harry blushed as memories of exactly how much  _ fun _ she had managed to have this term crashed over him.

Harry nodded, muttering a quick apology to his friends before following Draco out of the Great Hall. His resolution had been a vague one, but after Neville’s lecture things started to come together in his mind. He’d initially meant the resolution as a challenge to himself to come out to Ron and Hermione, but instead he’d not only come out to the entire school but come clean about his relationship with Draco, too. 

He hesitated at the stairway, wondering if he should go up or down. Would Draco be in the Dungeons, or would he have gone somewhere else? He took a deep breath, heading out the front doors instead of the stairs. Draco would probably be out near the lake, where they used to meet in secret when the weather was warm before anyone knew about their relationship. He jogged down the stone steps, peeling his heavy robes off as he went. It was early, but the day was already warm. 

Harry looked around the grounds, searching for Draco. He found him under a willow tree near the lake shore, engaged in a hushed conversation with Pansy. That was another surprise – Neville coming out of his shell and taking charge of his own life. His Gran had threatened to disown him when news of his relationship with Pansy finally reached her, but Neville had calmly pointed out that he was of age, which meant he was the Head of the Longbottom House and could not be disowned. He told the formidable old woman that Pansy was a part of his life, and that if she couldn’t accept that he would furnish her with a very reasonable monthly allowance and set her up in one of the nice flats the family owned in London. She’d been in awe of her grandson ever since, as had Pansy.

The dark-haired girl looked up as Harry approached, her glare making it clear that Draco had definitely taken the thoughtless comment to heart. Harry grimaced, steeling himself for an argument as he flopped gracelessly down on the ground next to the duo.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, hoping to stem the vitriol that was sure to come from the angered Slytherins. “It was stupid – I was just surprised. I had no idea resolutions meant something different in the magical world than they do in the Muggle one.”

Draco eyed him, his mouth set in a sullen pout. Pansy’s posture eased somewhat, but the thin girl still kept her arms crossed firmly over her chest, her expression one of polite disdain.  _ Yes, _ Harry thought ruefully, hurrying to continue his apology,  _ no one does angry like a Slytherin. _

“I know you won that game because of skill, Draco,” he continued, gratified to see the blond’s mouth twitch slightly at his words. “We’ve always been near equal in talent, and this year you really pushed yourself and your team. You guys deserved the win, and you deserved the House Cup. I’m really sorry.”

Draco nodded, his expression still guarded. Pansy had uncrossed her arms, her now-neutral gaze still pinned on the squirming Gryffindor.

“So, that’s it, really,” Harry said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with their unreadable expressions. He took a breath, deciding this might be the last chance he had with Draco, so he’d better make the most of it.

“I love you, Draco,” he said, his face so open it nearly pained the Slytherins to look at. They weren’t used to such raw emotion. “I love you, and I can’t imagine not being with you. I know I say and do stupid things all the time, but you have to know that I really do love you more than anything else, and I never mean to hurt you.”

Harry paused, desperation shooting through him when he saw his words hadn’t changed either Slytherin’s expression at all.

“I was going to ask you this later, when we were alone, but I guess I should just do it now,” Harry continued, so caught up in his own inner turmoil that he didn’t see Draco’s eyes widen in alarm, his gaze flicking past Harry’s shoulders and back to his face.

“I know we’re coming back here in a few weeks for that summer session, but I don’t even want to be away from you for that long,” Harry said, his emerald gaze meeting Draco’s again. “Will you – will you move in with me? I inherited several properties, or we could buy something of our own, if you prefer.”

Draco was silent, and Harry panicked, babbling to fill the gap.

“Or we could live at the Manor, if that’s what you wanted,” he said, swallowing hard. “I mean, I know your mother isn’t my biggest fan, but I’d be willing to try. If that’s what you wanted –”

Pansy interrupted him, stopping his rushed words before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.

“Harry,” she said gently, the hard glint in her eyes gone. “Do you realize what you’re asking him? In Pureblood circles –”

“Moving in with someone is tantamount to promising to marry them,” Neville cut in, startling Harry. He turned around, flinching when he realized most of their friends were standing behind them. They must have followed him out, but he had no idea how long they’d been there.  _ The no secrets thing again, I suppose _ , Harry thought dryly. “He knows that.”

Draco blinked, his heart pounding.

“He does?”

Harry studied the blond carefully, unsure of what to make of his words. “I do,” he confirmed.

Their friends laughed, and Harry blushed as he realized what he’d said. The tight feeling in his stomach began to dissipate when he realized Draco was laughing, too.

“In a rush, then, Potter?” he teased, his eyes still locked on the dark-haired boy.

“No use putting off the inevitable,” Harry returned, the challenge clear in his eyes.

Draco was silent a moment, and Harry’s confidence deserted him. Had he misread things so badly, then?

“We’ll have to get started hunting for a flat. Anything you inherited from your godfather is sure to be unacceptable,” Draco said finally, oblivious to the giggles his words elicited from their audience. “Mother was the only Black with any taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: We made it through all the resolutions, folks! How did my 5K word one-shot turn into this 13-chapter fic? *grins* It was thanks to you, dear readers. Enough of you asked for more, and I couldn’t ignore the puppy dog eyes and offers of cookies. 
> 
> There is a sequel to this fic called Summer Session.


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